


Que Je Suis, Mon Amour

by orphan_account, RainbowLookingGlass



Series: la voix, c'est toi [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BPD Kent, Borderline Personality Disorder, Fluff, Get Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of self-harm, Multi, NHL Kent, NHL Rookie Bitty, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Therapy, bad therapists, established relationships - Freeform, nhl jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9172492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowLookingGlass/pseuds/RainbowLookingGlass
Summary: When Falconers Captain, Jack Zimmermann, and his boyfriend Kent Parson are asked to billet the new NHL Rookie, Eric Bittle, they can't possibly anticipate the change the small blonde is going to bring about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself I wouldn't start another WIP, and yet here we stand, with a PB&J stretching out ahead of us. I got an anon request for hurt/comfort BPD Kent/PB&J, so I decided to do a long (ish) fic, but I wanted to do the idea of BPD Kent justice. I don't want to fall into lazy, and incorrect tropes about the disorder. The idea of BPD Kent is important to a lot of people for a lot of reasons. So I took quite a while, and a lot of help, to start this.
> 
> RainbowLookingGlass (both my favourite kid and one of the best people I've ever met) has graciously helped me co-author this fic, and allowed me to use some of his personal experiences with both therapy and relationships as a person who lives with BPD.
> 
> These experiences, symptoms, and reactions aren't going to reflect every person with BPD's own experiences, symptoms, and reactions, but hopefully enough people can relate to Kent in this, both his triumphs and his struggles.
> 
> Backstory for this fic: Kent was diagnosed when he was captain of the Aces, when he and Jack decided to reconcile, he started therapy. After many sessions, Kent was eventually given the diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder, and his treatment has been DBT- group, and individual therapy. After Kent was traded to the Falconers, he had a therapist who eventually had to leave Providence, and Kent was assigned to someone new. The fic starts a few months after Kent begins work with his new therapist.
> 
> If I missed any tags, please feel free to let me know.
> 
> Any questions, you can feel free to contact [RainbowLookingGlass](http://rainbow-looking-glass.tumblr.com) on his tumblr, and mine at [omgittybits](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/omgittybits).

Jack stared at Georgia with wide eyes, a brow cocked up high on his forehead as she made the announcement. Jack knew they were picking up three new rookies. Maze and Rowe had been traded to Boston which had been a long time coming, and their farm team was still fairly under-developed so it wasn’t a stretch that they were keeping their eye on the draft.

But.

But.

This guy. This kid, he thought, although he wasn’t a kid at all. He was a graduate of Samwell University, which Jack knew well since his mother went back to her Alma Mater often enough for events and benefits. And it wasn’t a stretch considering the guy had been the Captain for two years, and led the team both years into the Frozen Four, winning in his senior year.

But.

But.

Merde, he was tiny. He was possibly the smallest in the NHL to date, and he might have been fast, but Jesus, he was going to be mutilated his first game. If, Jack realised, he actually played. Far as Jack was concerned, the guy was seriously going to have to prove himself before Jack was going to let him anywhere near the ice, and he had the coach’s ear on this so it wouldn’t be a hard sell.

They were struggling enough as it was. Kent was not at the top of his game in pre-season. He’d already lost the A after a melt-down a few weeks back. Giving the A to Poots had been voluntary on Kent’s part, but Jack could tell he wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t like feeling useless, he didn’t do well when he felt like he wasn’t giving his best, but things just weren’t…

They weren’t like they used to be, when Kent was first traded to the Falconers. He’d risen quickly, grabbing the A off Thirdy who was starting to look at retirement, and they’d taken the Falconers to the cup that year. Which had been amazing.

Last season, though, is when things started to get a little…different. Kent started seeing a different therapist, one he didn’t really talk to Jack much about, and his meds had been changed three times, making his off-season difficult. He was quick to anger, quick to splitting, quick to falling into depressive episodes, and it was taking him a lot longer to move past them.

Jack and Kent had been dealing with Kent’s BPD since and Jack and Kent became a _thing_. Since Jack had insisted Kent get into therapy if he wanted to make something work. And at first it had been great. Jack was managing his own anxiety and addiction, Kent was managing his therapy and meds, and they’d come out together—first to the team, then to the rest of the world.

But things had started to seem off. And Jack could handle it. He understood Kent, he was there for Kent, but he didn’t have a lot of room in his life for anything more than the Hockey he was already playing, and his boyfriend.

And although he was prepared for the rookies, he was unprepared for Georgia to level at him, “Jack, we think you should host Bittle for the first few months he’s here.”

Jack blinked at her. “I’m sorry…what?”

Georgia folded her hands on her desk and gave him a level stare. “You’re the Captain now, Jack. You hold the C, which means you have certain responsibilities that…”

“I understand my responsibilities,” he replied, trying to keep the sharp edge out of his voice.

“Most Captains do this. And Bittle has spent some time on the East Coast, but he’s not from here, and him being drafted was…a bit of a surprise. He’s good, he earnt it,” she cut in before Jack could disparage about his size or his playability, “but it doesn’t mean he’s not out of his element. Coming from the NCAA…well you understand the fundamental differences. He came from Samwell which is a more…” She cleared her throat. “A more liberal setting than the NHL can be.”

Jack lifted a brow. “You mean because Kent and I are out.”

She stared. “Jack…”

“Is he gay? Or bi. Whatever. Is he…”

“Yes,” she said. “He was the first openly gay NCAA captain and he’s already had some…issues,” she said very slowly, “on social media. He’s got a psychology undergrad from Samwell, and he’s a huge supporter of both LGBT and mental health causes. It seemed like a better fit, you and Kent.”

Jack scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed. What she was saying made sense, but things at home weren’t great. Only he couldn’t say that. Kent would kill him if he went to George about how things were, and other than that he had no real excuse as to why this Bittle guy couldn’t live with them.

“I need to check with Kenny,” he finally said. “It’s not just my place.”

George inclined her head just once. “Of course.”

“When does he get in?”

“He’s already in,” she said. “He’s at the Hilton right now, but his stuff arrives on Monday so we need to arrange something for him before that. He’s young, Jack. He lived in the hockey frat house before this, and he’s never been on his own. It’s our job to make sure he…”

“I get it,” Jack all-but snapped, then took a breath. “Sorry it’s just, I wasn’t expecting to have to billet some rookie this year. Kenny and I had…some plans.” It was a weak, pathetic excuse, but it at least laid the groundwork in case Kent balked at the idea.

Though if Jack was being honest, he didn’t think Kent would say no. Kent would probably be excited for a distraction, which was worrying in itself. He pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’ll text you this evening.”

“Team dinner,” she reminded him. “I’ll be there, and I expect some answer by then.”

Jack bit the inside of his cheek, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He’d all-but forgotten the welcome dinner for the rookies, and he wanted to kick something.

But he kept himself together, through the facility, to the car park, and all the way home.

*** 

Jack was just getting out of the shower when he heard singing in the kitchen, and he walked out with just a towel round his waist. Kent was there, dressed for dinner, looking calmer than he had earlier that morning. When Jack came in, Kent turned and grinned, tilting his face up for the kiss Jack dropped on his lips.

“Well? How fucked are we?”

Jack snorted. “Euh, actually I wanted to…” He cleared his throat. “George is asking us to billet one of the new rookies.”

Kent turned slowly, one eyebrow raised. “Okay.”

“Uh, the NCAA guy? Bittle.”

“Small, fast one,” Kent said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “What did you tell her?”

Jack started back toward the bedroom with Kent close at his heels, and he grabbed a pair of boxers before he answered. “I told her that I’d have to speak to you about it before deciding. I might be captain, but this isn’t just my home.” When he turned back, scrubbing the towel over his wet hair, he caught Kent smiling.

“What do you think?” Kent asked.

Jack bit the inside of his cheek to give himself a minute. “I think…it would only be fair of me as his captain to do the best by him. Apparently he’s been getting a lot of shit online.”

Kent frowned. “What? What the hell for?”

“He’s the first openly gay NCAA captain, and he’s apparently really involved in mental health” Jack said, his tone very careful. “I think it’s mostly the gay stuff, to be honest. She said he’s been getting a lot of flack from homophobic hockey fans.”

“That’s…” Kent made a strangled noise, and dragged a hand down his face. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Jack said from behind a sigh. “I want to help, but I know things have been rough for you lately and throwing off your routine…”

“Jack,” Kent said, his voice tense but quiet, “we can’t just throw this kid to the fucking wind. If I didn’t have you after we came out, I’d have been fucked. He should stay with us.”

“Kenny,” Jack replied as he grabbed for his jeans, “maybe you should take a minute and think about this. It could be a lot.”

Jack watched as several emotions played out on Kent’s face. Annoyance, insult, but there was consideration as well, and he gnawed on his bottom lip. “Okay. I know you’re not saying I’m incapable of dealing with change.”

“No. I would never say that,” Jack said, and put his hand on Kent’s hip, grounding him.

Kent took a breath. “And it might be a lot, but Jack, we can’t just let this kid flail.” He furrowed his brow, then said, “Let’s talk to Tates and Snow and see if maybe they can be back-up. If it becomes too much.”

Jack felt his shoulders relax. It was fair, and it was reasonable. “Okay. Let’s get to the team dinner early and see if we can grab them before I have to talk to George and Bittle.”

Kent brightened. “Great. Now hurry up, I’m fucking starving.” He laughed when Jack rolled his eyes, dragged him for a kiss, then shoved him away to finish dressing.

***

Kent was feeling keyed up in the car as they headed out for dinner. Marty was hosting it, which made the situation a little more relaxed for the players. No one would be getting harassed for autographs, and the rookies could settle in with the team without feeling intimidated.

Providence wasn’t like living in Boston. Kent and Jack could wander Wholefoods without being stopped, and it was only every now and again on dates people would stop for a photo or autograph. It wasn’t as anonymous as Vegas, but Kent liked the balance. He liked being recognised, and he knew where to go when he was feeling particularly attention-seeking, to get fans to notice him. But he also liked being able to have a nice meal and kiss Jack over a dish of chocolate mousse without having someone document the entire thing on twitter.

But it could be a lot. Kent knew that. Kent lived it. 

And although the keyed up feeling was starting to feel a little intense-- starbursts of energy rushing up and down his spine—he was more just excited to meet the new rookies.

He knew a little bit about them—mostly about Bittle since he’d been making waves for his captaincy at Samwell. Kent had been just as surprised as anyone that he’d been scouted, and been offered a contract with the Falconers, though considering the team they had, Kent’s surprise was fairly mild.

But getting to meet new guys—that was Kent’s specialty. He didn’t miss captaining the Aces as much as he thought, but he had been good at it. He’d been good at making them all feel welcome and loved. So he could easily do the same with Bittle. He’d have to be buffer between him and Jack, of course. It was obvious Jack was less than thrilled about some tiny rookie—he’d see Bittle as a liability for a while, until the guy proved himself.

But Kent could do that.

He was good at that.

His knee began bouncing, and he reached over, flicking the radio on and cranking it up. Katy Perry blared out of the speakers and he grinned widely at Jack who just rolled his eyes and kept driving.

Kent danced in his seat, singing along, and tried to tamp down his excitement over how the night was going to go.

Luckily the drive to Marty’s wasn’t far. Marty and Gabs lived just outside of the city, on a nice bit of property with horses they occasionally let the guys come ride. The house itself was larger than Kent ever wanted, but he enjoyed the aesthetic of it, and the indoor pool which was set right off the greenhouse near the back garden.

They pulled up, only a few minutes later than planned, and Kent saw everyone’s cars parked round the dusty driveway. He flung his door open before Jack had the car off, and waited impatiently for his boyfriend to come around.

He hummed a happy noise when Jack slung an arm round his waist, and dropped a kiss on his temple. “Good mood?” Jack asked.

Kent shrugged. “Not bad. Feeling a little too excited? But not out of control. Just meeting new guys.” Kent felt a little twitchy about telling Jack. Lately his therapist had been telling him to do less talking and more feeling.

“The more you verbalise your symptoms,” she said during the last session, “the more the symptoms will manifest into reality. Next time you’re feeling that kind of high, try and just envision yourself on a still late, floating along the top of the water.”

Kent had swallowed, feeling edgy. “Part of my…part of my therapy before, with Jack, was to communicate exactly how I’m feeling so he’s aware of where I’m at. I’m not sure lying to him…”

“I’m not saying you should lie,” she was quick to respond. “I’m saying try a new technique, to move past the extreme, into a more balanced state of mind.”

Kent bit the inside of his cheek hard after telling Jack. He searched his boyfriend’s face for hesitation or fear, but it wasn’t there. Jack merely smiled, then kissed him again.

“Okay. If it gets too much just let me know. We don’t have to be here that long.”

Kent felt his shoulders relax. His therapy sessions were…not great. His medication had been changed again, and he was feeling like he was taking ten steps back for every step forward. But telling Jack was…difficult. Kent had a long history of trying to sabotage his treatment by dropping therapists for no reason. It had been the hardest thing to tackle between them, and Jack was almost overly aware of that behaviour pattern.

So when Kent was unhappy with a therapist, it was rare Jack believed it was the therapist at all.

And Kent could not deal with that right now.

But he didn’t want to think about that. He was in too good of a mood for it. He led the way to the door, pushing the bell, and all but throwing himself at Alexei who answered.

“My second husband!”

Tater laughed, catching Kent round the waist and hugging him before setting him down. “I’m ask every day when we run back to Vegas. You never commit, Parse.”

Jack rolled his eyes and yanked Kent back away from the tall Russian. “Hey. Everyone here?”

“Rookies inside, having drinks already, getting stories by Poots already,” Alexei said as he shut the door.

Kent laughed. “Oh that’s fucking great. I’m going to have to undo all that work tonight. You met them, though? What do you think of the little one? Bittle, right?”

“I’m call Bitty,” Tater said. “Is old name, is fit. So small,” he said and pinched his finger just above his thumb.

Kent laughed. “Smaller than me.”

“He make you feel tall,” Tater said, and hip-checked Kent into Jack.

“Actually,” Jack said as they reached the game room where most of the guys were stood round drinking, “I wanted to talk to you and Nicki about something. Do you have a minute?”

“I’m getting a drink,” Kent said, deciding escape from the awkward, ‘My boyfriend can be a little crazy sometimes so we might need a back-up rookie-sitter so he won’t get the shit scared out of him,’ conversation. Of course Kent knew Jack wouldn’t ever use the word crazy, nor would he make Kent sound like that, but Kent knew Tater and Snowy long enough to know they could read between the lines.

And it was fine. He told himself it was fine. They liked him for who he was, and he didn’t need to be anything other than himself.

Pushing his way to the bar, he clapped Marty on the shoulder who had an uncapped beer waiting for him. “Where’s Jack-o?”

“Blabbering at Tater,” Kent said with a shrug. He took a long pull from the beer. “New guys?”

Marty nodded to the big, plush sofa where Kent could see a small blonde wearing jeans and a low-cut v-neck sweater. The guy was smiling bright, dark eyes wide, nodding along to whatever Poots was going on about, and Kent almost laughed.

“I should go rescue him.”

Marty snorted. “Yeah, but keep the corruption to a minimum, eh? I like this one.”

Kent flipped him off, but laughed at Marty’s grin as he made his way through a few girlfriends, and a couple kids, and slid his ass right on the arm of the sofa. “New guy,” he said.

Bittle’s eyes slid over and widened. “Oh my gosh. Kent Parson.”

“Reputation precedes me?” Kent asked.

Poots rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to this one. He’s so full of shit.”

“Yes Poots,” Kent said, waggling his brows.

Poots rose. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Parse. Where’s your dumb boyfriend.”

“Making out with Tater,” Kent said easily. He slid onto the sofa cushion, keeping some distance between himself and Bittle as he sized the guy up. He truly was tiny, well muscled but he was slender, and cute. Very cute.

Bittle’s eyes widened and he stared at Kent. “Is he…actually making out with Tater?”

Kent almost choked on his beer. “Oh my god. No, dude. No he and Tater aren’t like that. I mean shit, if he wanted to…I’d…I don’t know. Jack and I aren’t monogamous or anything but it’s…we’re all family here so that would be like, weird.”

Bittle’s face flushed bright red. “Sorry. God I don’t mean to assume y’all would be…I mean I know what hockey family is like so I…I’m. Sorry,” he finished quietly.

Kent shook his head fondly. He liked this guy. A lot. So much. Sweet and cute and adorably flustered. He shifted over and nudged him as he kicked one leg up on the low table. “Dude, it’s cool. I promise. Anyway you’re gonna be moving in with me and Jack so you might as well get used to me.”

Bittle let out a shaking breath. “I meant to say thanks. About that. I mean, I just kind of got the news so fast. Mama wanted to come down and help me find a place, but I don’t even know what I can afford. And it’s just…it’s been so much. Graduation and then getting the contract and…” He dragged a hand down his face. “I was gonna apply to grad school.”

Kent let out a tiny laugh. “Shit, really?”

Bittle shrugged. “Yeah. I mean,” he stopped and let out a giggle. “I mean, I kinda got into hockey by accident. And suddenly I’m in the NHL…” Bittle stopped, and his cheeks went pink, and his eyes wide as though he was suddenly realising the implications of what he’d signed. “Oh lord,” he breathed.

Kent threw his head back and laughed, slinging an arm round Bittle. “Come on dude, I’m getting at least like three more drinks in you. You can’t fall apart on me now. Season’s about to start and if Jack finds out I broke his rookie, he’ll kill me.”

Bittle grinned adoringly at Kent, and let himself be drawn up. Kent felt a swooping feeling in his gut. He liked this guy. A lot. He had a feeling this was going to be very, very good.

*** 

Just before dinner, Kent’s sister called, and he never turned Kait’s phone calls down. He motioned to Jack that he was going to take it outside as everyone was getting seated, and made gestures at Jack, letting him know to stick close to Bittle.

Jack pulled a face, but nodded, and Kent snorted as he swiped the answer button. “Hey kiddo! How are you?”

Kait immediately began to launch into her dorm story. She’d been having trouble with her roommates for a while, and had been calling Kent at least four times a week to complain. “…and she brings him home and I swear to god, Kenny, the fucker bathes in axe. Bathes in it. Like, I thought I was going to choke to death. I tried to open the windows and they start bitching at me, so I just…fucking left.”

Kent sighed, leaning against the back wall near one of Marty’s fountains. “Where are you now?”

“The quad,” she said.

“Kait,” Kent said, his voice low, “it’s fucking dark out.”

“Shut the fuck up. I have my pepper spray and there’s like forty people out here getting stoned. The most they’re gonna do is ask me for Cheeto’s.”

Kent’s jaw was tight. “I just worry, kid. And it’s fucking bullshit you feel like you need to leave your own home because they can’t respect you.”

“If she just had better taste,” Kait groaned. “I don’t know. I mean, I can put in for a transfer or something. Or…”

“Or you can let me rent you a goddamn apartment,” he put in. It was an argument he’d been having with her since she’d started University. She’d caved on letting him pay tuition, but she wanted the full experience, with the dining card and the dorm room and everything. But it was starting to get ridiculous. “Your grades are going to start suffering if you can’t be in your own room to study.”

Kait sighed. “Can I…can I think about it?”

Kent pinched the bridge of his nose, but let out a tiny breath of air. “Yeah. Of course you can. I’m not going to force you or anything, okay?”

Kait hummed. “I know, Kenny. Thanks for you know…letting me bitch.”

Kent couldn’t help a grin. “Look, come visit soon, okay? Like first three day weekend?”

“Of course, idiot. Where the hell else do you think I’m gonna go? Mom’s?”

Kent’s shoulders went tense at the mention of his mother, but he breathed through it. “Okay well, keep me posted. I should go though. I’ve got this fucking team dinner thing going on, and I guess Jack got talked into housing one of the new rookies.”

“Oh shit,” Kait said. “Which one? The little mini-you, or the dark haired one?”

Kent blinked. “Mini me, what the fuck?”

“Yeah dude,” Kait said with a laugh. “The little one with the southern accent which would totally be you if you were like a foot shorter and from Georgia.”

Kent laughed. “Oh shut up. But yeah that’s the one, and he’s fucking nice.”

“He seemed way too nice to play hockey with you guys,” Kait chirped. “I bet Jack’s happy though.”

Kent frowned. “Jack? Mr I can’t believe I have to share a dresser with you, Parse? Why would he be happy with this?”

“Two adorable blondes?” Kait said with a snort. “Please. I bet he’s fucking thrilled. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your dinner. Call me later, loser.”

“Bye, kid.” Kent hung up and stood there for a few seconds, thinking about what she’d just said.

Jack hadn’t seemed thrilled about Bittle but…it hadn’t been that long. Bittle wasn’t anything like Kent though, as far as Kent could tell. Apart from blonde hair and small stature, Bittle was way more polite, and his accent was soft and sweet, and he was quick to laugh and eager to please.

He wasn’t anything like Kent.

Shit, he was probably better. He was probably not a total fuck-up at the very least, who liked to wreck every good thing that ever happened to him. He was probably…

Kent stopped, and breathed. “This isn’t helpful,” he muttered to himself. “We don’t know Bittle, and he’s not me, and Jack can enjoy other people’s company without loving me less.” He breathed again, and nodded, trying to hold on desperately to the last vestiges of his decent mood. He didn’t want to lose it. He was having fun, and Bittle had been nice, and there was no reason to make this feeling into anything more than it was. It wasn’t real.

With that, Kent reached for the door and headed back inside.

The team had moved to the dining room, and Kent turned the corner, freezing when he saw Jack there, next to Bittle, leant into him. Whatever Bittle was saying had Jack laughing hard enough to make his eyes crinkle. It was Kent’s favourite smile. It was _Kent’s_ smile. And Bittle was giving it to him.

He felt something hot and angry shooting up his spine, and when he crossed the room and sat down in the chair Jack had left empty for him, his face was drawn. Jack looked at him, head cocked to the side. “How was Kait?”

“Fine,” Kent said, clipped and short. He saw the wary hesitation flare up in Jack’s eyes, and guilt rushed through him because he knew what he was doing. He saw the uneasy look Bittle was giving him, and the tension rising in Jack’s shoulders. He took a breath and told himself to play it cool. It would pass. It always passed. “I’m fucking starving.”

Jack nodded, then passed over the bowl of the potatoes Gabby made which Kent loved so much. He scooped some onto his plate, letting the spoon clang, but the conversation carried on, and Kent breathed a sigh of relief. He could lie. He could hold it back and lie until it passed.

No big deal.

*** 

Jack was more than aware of Kent’s mood from the moment he sat back down. He’d come in wearing a frown, and the way his eyes—angry and frustrated—fixed on him and Bittle was telling. Kent wore his heart on his sleeve. Jack had been able to read him like an open book from the moment they met, as subtle as Kent always thought he was.

He knew the phone call had come from Kait, so the mood shift surprised Jack. Kent’s splitting with Jack had Kent either loving him or hating him, but with Kait, Kent loved her. No matter what she did, what she said, she was Kent’s baby sister and nothing would change that.

But clearly something had triggered his mood. Jack didn’t want to bring it up at the dinner, wanting to avoid a melt-down or massive row in front of the team. Especially in front of the new rookies.

So, he waited.

And it was probably a bad idea. He should have excused the pair of them from the dinner almost immediately, and handled it. Letting Kent fester would only make it worse. He was getting the cold shoulder from him most of the night. Kent engaged both Snowy and Tater in a round of darts, falling on them, laughing too loud, making a production out of giving Jack the silent treatment.

Bittle was hanging back, watching with curious eyes, and Jack could tell he was concerned. Bittle and Kent had been getting along really well, Kent physically taking the guy under his arm and showing him around. Now Kent wouldn’t look his way, and Jack couldn’t tell if Kent was splitting, or if he was trying to spare Bittle his mood.

In the car, the atmosphere was icy, and Jack was bracing himself for the tsunami when they got inside.

The door to the condo shut, and Jack stayed by the coat rack while Kent kicked his shoes off and stormed into the bedroom. A minute later, Jack heard a door slam. Then the bath run.

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face, and prepared himself.

Hesitating near the bedroom door, he twisted the handle, half expecting to find it locked, but it wasn’t. It was a subconscious gesture, Jack had learnt over the years, when Kent was feeling out of control with his emotions, but wanted help. When he didn’t know how to ask, he would do small things like this. If he’d really wanted to be alone, if he was edging into something reckless, he’d have locked Jack out.

“Kenny,” Jack said as he pushed his way in. The bathroom door was cracked open, and the steam from the warm tub was wafting out. There was a floral scent—bath bomb, and the sound Kent singing under his breath. Jack pressed his head against the wall near the bathroom door. “Kenny, are you ready to talk?”

He could hear Kent turn in the water, the splashing sound soft, then the gentle whirr of the tub jets. “Nothing to talk about,” Kent eventually said.

Jack pushed the door open and poked his head in. “Can I come in?”

“You can do whatever the fuck you want. You don’t need my permission,” he spat, “for anything.”

Jack’s anxiety edged a little, but he breathed it back down. This was not personal, he knew. “Did Kait say something?”

“You can leave her the entire fuck out of this, Zimms,” Kent spat. He rolled back onto his back, then dunked his head under the water for several seconds. He came up, gasping a little, swiping his face. Jack could see flecks of glitter in his hair, in his brows.

Jack stared at the water on the floor, then decided fuck it, and sat down near the edge of the tub. It soaked into his jeans, but he leant against the cold tile, and looked at his boyfriend. “Was it Bittle?” He was pretty sure that’s what it was, from the way Kent had been treating him, but he needed Kent to say it.

“Bittle,” Kent spat. He laughed, harsh and angry. “Why isn’t he here?”

“He won’t be here until his stuff arrives,” Jack said. “And we need to get the guest room ready.”

“Or, I can move my shit in there and he can move in here. With you,” Kent said.

Jack closed his eyes, counting to ten. “I don’t want him in here with me. I want _you_ here. Which is why you are here, Kenny.”

“For now,” Kent replied. He grabbed soap, squirting it so angry, he covered his palm, then threw it into the water and smeared it across his hair. Jack watched him scrub until his fingers dug in too tight, and Jack knew it was hurting.

Very carefully, as he’d always done, Jack reached out and curled his fingers round Kent’s wrist, stilling the motion. “Can I?”

Kent let out a shaking breath. “Why fucking bother? Why the fuck do you bother with me, Zimms? I’m a fucking disgusting mess, who can’t get through a team dinner with rookies without fucking it up. Bittle’s cute. He’s a mini-me, but better.”

Jack, careful and slow, began to lather the shampoo. “Is that what Kait said? She called Bittle a mini-you.”

“She wasn’t lying.”

“No,” Jack said. “She wasn’t _lying_. But she doesn’t know him. She was watching a guy on TV who also has blonde hair, and is also short. He’s not _you,_ Kenny.”

Kent’s jaw tensed, but he moved into Jack’s fingers, letting his breath come out in a shaking gasp. “Fuck. I’m fucking…I’m sorry. Jack I’m sorry I…”

Jack leant over as Kent leant into him. Soap smeared along Jack’s cheek, but he didn’t care as he pressed a kiss along Kent’s shoulder, then against his neck. “I love you. This isn’t real, Kenny, and you know it. Bittle hasn’t come here to replace you. He’s a scared rookie with no family, and nowhere to go. We are going to help him. Me and you. That’s what we do.”

“Yeah,” Kent said. He curled one wet hand around the back of Jack’s neck and held him tight. “I’m sorry. Fuck.”

Jack laughed quietly and shook his head. “Do you want to talk about it? How Bittle made you feel? You split on him pretty quick.”

Kent shook his head. “Can I wait? And talk to Emily first?”

Kent hadn’t been discussing his therapist much lately, so the request surprised Jack, but he nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course. You want to call her tonight?”

“Nah. I have therapy before tomorrow’s skate. We’ll talk about it then, and you and I can talk about it after practise.”

“Okay,” Jack said, then pushed at Kent who slipped and flailed in the water.

“What the fuck, Zimms?” Kent demanded.

With a wide grin, Jack began to strip out of his clothes, and quickly jumped into the bath next to Kent who was staring wide-eyed, but laughing.

With a huff, Kent let himself be tucked up against Jack, then dunked into the water half-way to rinse the soap from his hair. Jack was careful with the motions, making them soft, knowing Kent craved intimate touches after moments like this. He watched as Kent’s eyes slipped closed, and he pushed into the touch like a man starving for it.

Jack felt a rush of love crawling up his spine, wrapping around him. He did love Kent. He loved him so much, and he ached to make this better. He could tell how exhausted he was, living with this every second of every day, and Jack understood it better than most people. His anxiety was a constant, heavy weight around his neck. Bearable, but forever.

Easing Kent up, Jack cupped his cheeks and brought their lips together, soft and slow. He peppered kisses across Kent’s freckles, over his brow, down his neck. They didn’t say much to each other, just basking in soft touches and easy embrace. The bath didn’t last much longer, and they took care as they climbed out, towelling off and easing into pyjamas at the foot of the bed.

Jack got the lights as Kent pulled the duvet back, and their legs tangled together as Kent settled on his pillow, his eyes bright, even in the dark room. His hand reached out, finding Jack’s and their fingers tangled together.

“Babe?” Kent said, his voice low.

“Mm?”

“Are um. Are you mad at me? For fucking up tonight?”

Jack sighed, then reached out and tucked Kent closer. He kissed his temple three times before answering. “No, Kenny. I’m not mad at you, and you didn’t fuck up. I know you’re trying. But if you start feeling like this about Bittle again, I need you to tell me first, okay? Especially if he’s going to be living here. We can’t make it work if you don’t talk to me.”

“I know,” Kent said, his voice small. “I love you.”

Jack smiled, pressing the grin into the top of Kent’s hair, and breathed him in. “I love you too, mon bé.”

Kent tightened his grip around Jack’s middle, and snuggled as close as he could. Not long after, Jack felt his breathing even, and the gentle snores letting him know Kent was out. Jack rolled onto his back after, letting Kent stay tucked in close, and he shoved his arm under his head.

Today hadn’t been unexpected, but it had been a lot. Jack had been preparing for it, since George had mentioned Bittle needing to billet with them but…Jack was still on the fence. Kent was quick to get attached, and quick to split, and Jack had years of learning to cope with Kent to handle it.

But Bittle, for all that he was damn smart, and eager to please, did not. Jack liked him, in spite of his reservations. He liked him for all the reasons Kent had brought up. He was bright and kind, and watching old games, he was probably going to be an asset to the team.

But it would devolve quickly, if Kent couldn’t cope with the change, and that worried Jack more than anything. He sighed, and Kent unconsciously shuffled closer, humming and nuzzling his face against Jack’s ribs. Jack let his hand fall into Kent’s hair, brushing through the cowlicks, and letting the tactile feel of his boyfriend’s presence lull him into a fitful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say thank you for all the amazing comments and feedback so far on this fic! I wanted to write a quick note since I got a couple people mentioning this about Kent's therapist--
> 
> The therapist character is meant to be bad. I've added it in tags, but I'm writing an additional warning here in case that's triggering for some people. She is definitely not ideal and a lot of her suggestions/practise can be dangerous, and it's something that's going to be addressed in the next couple of chapters.
> 
> I'm not planning on making this fic an angst-fest. There's enough of that trope going round with BPD characters. This fic definitely has a happy ending, whilst not ignoring the struggles of living with BPD. The main part of the plot should be sorted by chapter four, and chapter five will be mostly fluff, and chapter six an epilogue. Any questions feel free to let us know!

Kent’s knuckles were aching as he pulled into the car park behind the training facility. He was late, but everyone was expecting that already. His therapy had run long, and after the second text from Jack, he used it as an excuse to beg off because he was near to shouting at his therapist, and he didn’t want to deal with a meltdown the day before Bittle was meant to start moving his stuff in.

Kent was still shaken from the night before. Things had ended alright with Jack, and Kent had even woken up in a decent mood, which he hoped he’d carry through his session, but it hadn’t. His head was swimming with conflict, and he realised he couldn’t tell if he was trying to sabotage his therapy, or if it truly as bad as he thought it was.

The logical side of his brain was telling him the healing crystals in his pocket Emily wanted him to use in place of his next dosage of Zoloft was proof right there that she was shit. But he couldn’t bear to see the look in Jack’s face—the suspicion, the disappointment—when he told Jack she wasn’t any good. He hated himself a little for how many times he’d done this in this past. It cut inside, bleeding a little each time he thought about how little Jack trusted him.

He knew Jack loved him, but he also knew Jack would always second guess him. And it shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. Kent wanted to be trusted, but he would always need Jack to hold him accountable, and right now all he wanted was for someone to tell him he was right, for someone to say that this woman did not know what the fuck she was doing.

Kent had never had therapy like this before. He’d bounced around a few times between therapists when he was trying to get himself under control, but he’d never dealt with someone who seemed so…incompetent.

“It might just be me,” he told himself as he flipped the visor mirror down and stared at the darkening circles under his eyes. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe the medication _is_ making me worse.” His hand drifted out, and flipped open the small compartment between the seats and he stared at his pill bottle. His throat tightened as he gripped it, tipping one into his palm. It felt strangely heavy, and the sides of his tongue tingled with anticipation of swallowing it down.

Opening the door, Kent got out, stared at a puddle on the ground near his tire, and dropped it. It sank, and slowly started to dissolve, the light blue swirling to the surface of the puddle. Kent sighed, then stepped on it, crushing the pill with the toe of his trainer. Water seeped into the shoe, soaking into his sock, and he stepped back. It was gone then, just bits of gritty pill left, floating to the surface and disappearing.

He felt a strange sort of rage bubbling in his gut, and he fought back the urge to scream. Instead, he reached into his pocket and curled his fist around the crystal Emily had handed him at the end of the session. It was cold, and the edges bit into his palm as he held on long enough to make his knuckles ache. When he pulled it out, he stared for a minute, watching the washed out, clouded sunlight glint off the cut and polished sides. Huffing a breath, he cocked his arm back, and threw it into the empty space where no one was parked. In the distance he heard a soft, dull plink.

“Fucking bitch,” he muttered, but he wasn’t sure if he was talking about Emily, or himself.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he stomped toward the entrance and tried to get himself under control. The last thing he needed was to fall apart during practise, and with his mood, that’s exactly where he was heading.

*** 

Kent’s ankles were aching a little as he skated circles round the edge of the rink. Everyone’s mood seemed to be decent, and not everyone was on point, but no one was shooting as badly as Kent was. And it wasn’t just distraction, though he’d spent half the time he was supposed to be hitting slap-shots at Snowy, staring at Jack across the rink working with Bittle.

It seemed…professional. Of course it was. Kent knew that. But Bittle was having trouble taking checks, and Jack—being captain, and a good one at that—had decided to take it upon himself to help. Which meant every few minutes there would be a crack against the boards, and Kent would look over to see his boyfriend with his entire body pressing Bittle to the glass.

Kent was having trouble biting down his rage. He turned back to the goal and took the shot. It bounced off the pole and flew wide. Alexei, who was taking shots with him, threw his head back and laughed.

“You supposed to put puck in net, not play for other team, Parser.”

“And you’re supposed to be working with me, not trying to make your fucking boyfriend look good,” Kent chirped back, more venom in his words than he meant to.

Tater didn’t seem to notice, and ignored Kent’s slight flinch when he clapped Kent’s shoulder, then sent the puck flying in, glove-side. Snowy swore, and Tater crowed his triumph. “I’m get star first game, you watch!”

Kent grit his teeth, and tried not to look over.

It wasn’t easy though. Poots let out a low whistle and muttered, “Damn, new guy is fast.”

Kent’s head swivelled round and he saw Bittle skating the length of the rink, Jack trying—and failing—to catch him. Bittle was laughing, and even Jack had a slight smirk, which was…new. Jack hated to lose at anything, and if Bittle could make him smile like this…

 _Enough,_ he told himself. _Jack loves you. He is not looking to replace you. This fear is not reality-based._

It wasn’t working though. Kent was running through everything he knew he was supposed to tell himself, but his rage was building. He skated in a small circle, grabbed another puck with his stick, and shot it. It sailed wider than last time and missed the goal completely.

“Mother fuck!” he shouted, and slammed his stick on the wall near the bench, breaking it in half.

Everyone froze, including Jack who was nearby. His eyes were a little wide, and he glanced at Poots, shaking his head a little. The team resumed practise, and Jack quickly skated over. “You need to talk about it?”

“No,” Kent snapped.

“Was it therapy?”

Kent bit the inside of his cheek hard, pulling back just before he drew blood, and took a shaking breath. “Yes. No. I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m…” He didn’t want to flip on Jack right now. He wanted love and support. He wanted Jack to wrap him in a hug and take him home and maybe fuck him until he couldn’t remember his name.

But he couldn’t do that right now. They had a game tomorrow, and everyone needed to be ready. Pre-season or not, losing was not an option. And this was an open practise, meaning they had a small crowd of fans watching, so Kent needed to keep his shit together.

“Look, why don’t you and I run through some drills and…” Jack began.

“No. It’s fine. I’m going to keep working until I can get a fucking puck into the net. You just…you just go back to pushing Bittle against the boards.” The words came out before Kent could stop them, but he couldn’t deal with the consequences of his mouth right now, so he skated off and went back to pelting pucks at Snowy until he finally sank a few in.

*** 

“I have press,” Jack said quietly as the team was heading off the ice. He left his hand at the small of Kent’s back, a gentle pressure Kent could feel through his pads and jersey. “Then I have to meet with the coaches and…”

“I know,” Kent said, sounding more tired now than upset. His head was still conflicted and fuzzy, his entire being aching for Jack to just take him home and give him the attention he was craving. But he’d been in the NHL long enough to understand Jack’s responsibilities, and the one thing he always promised was not to stand in the way of those. He knew what being Captain meant to Jack, and it was just as important to him. “Look, I’m just going to work a little more on my own, and then head home. I’ll meet you there. We can like…do dinner. Whatever.” He waved a gloved hand at Jack, who caught it and tugged him close.

“Yeah,” Jack said.

Kent brightened, just for a second. “Yeah?”

Jack laughed. “Yes, Kenny. I’ll pick something up on my way.”

“Just me and you?” Kent asked, knowing his voice was taking on a slightly needy whine, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Jack didn’t seem annoyed though. “Just me and you.”

“Even though I completely fucked up practise?” Kent knew he was pushing his luck, trying to drag out attention from Jack like this, but the patient answers and easy smile tumbling from Jack’s lips helped.

“You didn’t fuck up practise just because you had a bad day.” He leant in and brushed his mouth over Kent’s. “But still, yes. Just me and you. I’ll text you later and you can tell me what you want me to bring home.”

Kent felt warm inside as Jack skated off, and the feeling lasted until he turned and saw Bittle still on the ice, working near the far goal. Kent immediately went rigid, his shoulders tense, his head focusing on his rage. He held onto hope Bittle might just ignore him, but that was dashed when the southern man locked eyes with him, then skated over.

 _Fuck_ , he thought, and almost skipped out of the rink before Bittle could reach him, but the rookie was fast.

“Uh, Kent…”

“Parser,” Kent replied, his voice terse and frustrated.

Bittle’s cheeks pinked. “Oh um. Sorry, Parser. I um. Can I ask you something?”

“You talk enough, not sure I could stop you if I wanted to.” He knew he was being mean, and he knew he could control it, but right now he didn’t want to. He wanted to push this man away, to tuck Jack safely in his own arms and ensure no one would come between them. He hated the way Jack looked at Bittle, and hated the way Bittle looked back.

Bittle looked startled, flinching at Kent’s tone, and he shook his head. “Sorry. I’ll…go. I didn’t…” He started to skate off, then froze, and turned. “I’m not sure what I did wrong. You were so nice at the dinner, and then…” He trailed off and sighed. “Whatever it was, I’m sorry. I know I can be a lot. I talk too much and I’m not…like the other guys. I know I’m not really an asset to the team. So…I just wanted to say sorry. I’ll stay out of your hair.”

Guilt ripped through Kent and before Bittle could skate off, Kent pushed away from the wall and caught the back of his jersey. “Shit uhh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, then glanced toward the locker rooms where most of the guys had already filed out. “You wanna run some drills for a little bit? Then maybe get lunch?”

Bittle’s eyes went wide. “Seriously, Parser. You don’t need to…I mean. I just…I get it. I swear I won’t bother you.”

Kent shook his head. “I was being an asshole, and it wasn’t your fault. Come on, dude. I need to step up my game before tomorrow, and we both have to eat. So…say yes.”

Bittle’s cheeks pinked, but Kent thought maybe it was for a different reason this time, and he offered a tense, hesitant smile. “Well, if you’re sure.”

“Don’t make me ask again,” Kent chirped, and felt a surge of triumph when Bittle’s face broke into a proper grin.

*** 

Kent offered to drive, taking them to a small hole-in-the-wall café near the coast, with a water-logged, outdoor terrace where Kent and Jack liked to grab a bite when they didn’t want to be bothered. The hostess waved Kent and Bittle through, and he snagged a couple menus as he led the way outside.

The air was cold enough to sting their faces, but the outdoor heaters were warm, and Kent pulled the sleeves of the hoodie he’d stolen off Jack earlier that week over his fingers.

“So, what’s good here?” Bittle asked, his voice still a little timid.

Kent sighed, hating that he’d already scared the guy so damn fast. His frustration was mounting, and his desire to get some validation that whatever Emily was doing with him wasn’t working, was starting to become unbearable. But he didn’t trust Jack was going to believe him, so he pushed it down and offered up a smile. “Like literally everything? Jack always gets the chicken tenders but like…I dunno. Lobster roll is pretty good. And um…” His eyes scanned the menu. “Clam chowder. It’s pretty fucking cold so that might be nice.”

Bittle hummed and muttered to himself, and Kent found he liked the sound of his accent. And okay, maybe he had a thing for accents, so sue him, but it was a nice change from Jack’s. The lilt, and curve round some words, and harsh edges on others. And Kent heard him use a couple of phrases once or twice that made no goddamn sense, but somehow made him a little more adorable.

He kind of did see what Jack saw in the kid—if that was real. Bittle was pretty endearing, the way he scrunched his nose, and let his tongue rest at the corner of his lips as his eyes scanned the page. Eventually he settled on a half sandwich and a soup, which Kent decided to get as well, and the pair of them sat back as a bit of sun broke through the foggy winter clouds.

“Did you feel alright at practise today?” Kent asked. “That was your first NHL one, right?”

Bittle nodded, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Um. I mean…it’s a little terrifying, you know? I went from a co-ed no-contact team, to NCAA where I learnt to take a check, but there wasn’t any fighting. And I know what I’m getting myself into but it’s…” He swallowed, and Kent saw a flicker of something in Bittle’s eyes, something Kent recognised all too well. It was fear—fear of failure and rejection. “It’s a lot.”

“Yeah,” Kent said softly. “I get it. Seriously like…probably better than anyone, you know? I’m fucking small, but I’ve been doing this a long time. And sometimes you just get some asshole who wants to drop gloves, but that’s what Tater and Poots are for, okay? They’ll have your back. And Jack. And me.”

Bittle seemed to relax at that, and his shoulders sank a bit. “Thanks Ke…I mean um. Parser.”

“Kent is fine,” he said quickly. “I was kind of being an asshole and I…it wasn’t your fault, okay?”

Bittle blinked. “Okay? But I feel like maybe somethin’ happened that I don’t know about, because we were getting on alright, then you came back to dinner and I swear you were tryin’ to light me on fire with your eyes.”

“Shit,” Kent said, and offered a tense laugh. He rubbed at the back of his neck a little, letting his nails scrape his skin. “Uh. That…wasn’t your fault? I mean I _was_ kind of glaring at you? But it wasn’t anything you did. I um.” He licked his lips. “There’s this…I have a thing,” he said, his voice trembling just a little.

Bittle’s eyes went wide. “Hey. Kent look, you don’t have to…”

“No it’s…it’s fine. Seriously like, it’s kind of…I mean everyone knows about me, you know? I mean, everyone on the team does. They have to, because like…I need everyone aware. It helps me function, they kind of keep me accountable and shit.” He reached for the water the server had put down, and took a quick drink, then dove in. There was no point in drawing it out now. “Have you um. Have you ever heard of Borderline Personality Disorder?”

Bittle blinked at him. “Like…” He furrowed his brow in thought, then his eyes went wide. “Okay, yeah. In my first year psych class we did a module on it, and they were talking about Fatal Attraction. And they were talking about that being a textbook case of BPD.”

“Uhg,” Kent breathed, feeling irritation creeping up his spine, because of fucking _course_ it would be Fatal fucking Attraction. “I guess. I mean okay yeah, that’s _technically_ right, but it’s not…not always like that.”

Bittle shook his head quickly. “Oh, I reckoned it wasn’t. So much they taught us in that class seemed to exaggerate everything, you know? The stuff they referenced didn’t seem right. But we didn’t study it much.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of the food, and Kent appreciated the momentary reprieve. Bittle was taking it well, at least. He seemed pretty willing to listen which was putting Kent a little more at ease, but these conversations had never been easy for him, no matter who he was talking to. And it had happened more than once, someone seemed to understand, but in the end they walked away thinking he was just some crazy asshole who was going to go Fatal Attraction on their ass, and he didn’t have the energy to set people straight anymore.

“So,” Bittle said after several beat of silence, “is that what you’ve got? Borderline Personality Disorder?”

Kent blinked, then nodded. “Yeah.” His leg started bouncing and he took a breath. Emily’s voice floated into his head for a second, her words telling him not to do this, not to manifest his negativity, whatever the fuck that meant. But it wasn’t _right_. If Bittle was moving in with them, he should know about all this. “I mean, I manage it, you know? I’m in treatment and everything—I see a therapist a few times a week, and I take meds for my depression.” He stopped then, thinking about the pill he’d thrown into the puddle, and sighed. “But it isn’t really easy all the time. It can get pretty fucked, and I feel like you should at least understand it a little before you move in.”

Bittle chewed on a bite of his sandwich, swallowed, then slowly asked, “You mean like what happened at the team dinner?”

Kent felt himself flush, and he picked a bit of the crust off his roll. “Uh. Yeah. It’s this thing, it’s called splitting where I uh. Well, I sort of look at things in black and white terms? Like someone is all good, or all bad. There’s no in between and um. So that night…”

“I was all bad,” Bittle offered.

Kent nodded, feeling fairly shitty, but Bittle didn’t seem upset about it. His eyes were wide, curious, but not accusing. “With most people, I flip. Like they go from good to bad. Jack’s usually all good, but he can piss me off and then…not good anymore.” Kent shrugged. “Change kind of makes things worse. And I want you to move in, Bits. Really. But you should know I do this sometimes. And I swear I work on it, I try really hard, but I can’t always control it and…” He stopped, seeing a flush crawling across Bittle’s cheeks, and his eyes had cut away. “What?” he prodded.

Bittle looked back and shrugged. “You called me Bits.”

“Oh.” Kent bit his lip for a second. “Sorry if that’s…”

“No. No it was nice. It was new,” he said and cleared his throat. “Anyway, sorry, I’m paying attention, I swear. And I get what you’re saying. What um…I mean okay, so what else can I expect then? Just so I’m prepared.”

Kent bit his cheek and debated about how much to lay on the guy. Bittle seemed eager to learn, to listen and accept, but Kent couldn’t trust that half this shit wouldn’t freak him out. Jack had done alright, but he’d been with Kent every step of therapy. He’d been with Kent before he was diagnosed. He’d seen him at his worst and his best. Asking Bittle to jump into the deep end without any warning…

“Kent,” Bittle said very softly, reaching out and brushing his fingers along the edge of Kent’s hand. “You don’t have to tell me, but I promise I’m not gonna run off or anything. Everyone’s got their own struggles and as long as you tell me what to do, it’ll be okay.”

Kent felt warmth flaring up in his chest, and he breathed out, nodding. “Okay. Yeah, okay.” He took a drink of his water, then a few bites of soup as Bittle did the same, then sat back. “I know this is a fucking lot to throw at you, and I don’t want it to be overwhelming, okay? Jack’s been doing this with me since I was diagnosed, so it was easier for him. We were together before and it was pretty bad. But I found a really good therapist who could explain it in terms he could understand. So like, if I’m not good at this, I’m sorry.” He breathed, but went on before Bittle could say anything to stop him. “I think the worst is how much I feel things. Everything I feel is so intense, and I feel it for _so_ long. It makes everything ten times better, but also ten times worse. And I get really attached really fast. Like…I like you, Bits. A lot. And um, that can be good, but because I already started splitting on you it could be…bad.”

Bittle nodded, stirring what was left of his soup in thought. “When you do that, will you flip back? Can I…I mean you’ll like me again, right? You won’t hate me forever?”

Kent couldn’t help his laugh. “Nah, Bits, I won’t. And I’ll try really hard not to hate you at all. Jack uh…I mean, you should talk to Jack about it. He gets it better than anyone. I’m…like the way I get attached tends to get a little obsessive. Jack’s my…well, the term is favourite person. He’s kind of my everything? I don’t really see him the way most people do. I try to be realistic, but it doesn’t always work out that way. I rely on him a lot though. He keeps me pretty accountable because I’m prone to being reckless. When I was younger I…” Kent rubbed at his arm where he still bore a handful of scars. “I hurt myself. I kind of still do sometimes. Not as badly as I used to, but it happens. I get really impulsive and I don’t always think and that leads to…” He trailed off and shrugged.

“Not always being safe?” Bittle offered.

Kent’s laugh was a little dry, and he nodded. “Pretty much, yeah. I’m not…it’s not as bad as it sounds, though. It hasn’t been out of control in years. I mean, I live with it every day, and I’m not always stable, but I’m trying.”

“Sweetheart,” Bittle said, almost like he wasn’t thinking about the words coming out of his mouth, “I can tell. And I think you’re brave for telling me all this, and I’m just really grateful you trust me. I know you feel like it’s necessary with me movin’ in and all, but it means a lot all the same. I think you’re a really great guy, Kent.”

Kent felt another warm, rush of affection toward the rookie, and he smiled, this time genuine. “Yeah, Bits. I think you’re pretty great, too. You’re taking this better than probably anyone I’ve ever told.”

Bittle flushed and shrugged. “I guess just...a lot of what you said makes sense to me. I know it’s not the same thing, but I kind of get some of it. The feeling of not being in control of what your head does. I have…” He licked his lips and sighed, the sound trembling a little. Kent leant forward when Bittle spoke next, the sound almost too soft to hear over the faint sound of traffic in the distance. “So some stuff happened when I was a kid. I mean, growing up in small-town Georgia, being the figure skating gay kid wasn’t um. Easy. And my daddy was football coach so um.” He shrugged and shifted in his chair. “Anyway there was some stuff. I don’t really like talking about it but, well, it had a pretty big impact on my mental health. I was struggling at Samwell when I made the hockey team, and eventually my haus-mates talked me into seeing the school counsellor who got me into therapy and I got diagnosed with PTSD. Which…let me tell you is a bear to deal with right now. These giants skating at me…” Bittle trailed off with a trembling laugh. “It’s kind of putting all of my own coping skills to the test.”

“Oh hell, Bits, I had no idea,” Kent said very softly. “I should have…shit, I should have been better. Fuck. I’m so sorry…” His gut was twisting and his head was spinning. He couldn’t believe how badly he’d fucked up. His issues could have triggered Bittle and he’d just gone at the guy without remorse.

“Kent,” Bittle said, his voice a little louder. His eyes met Kent’s in a firm, unwavering gaze. “It’s alright. _I’m_ alright. You don’t have to apologise for something you can’t help. Now I know. And you know about me. It can be better.”

Kent breathed, and nodded. He didn’t feel great. And in fact, his first instinct was to call Emily to talk about what he’d done, but he wasn’t sure he’d like anything she’d have to say, and the last thing he wanted to hear was float in the bath and fucking mediate or some shit. But, he did have Jack. He was having dinner with Jack tonight and Jack would get it. Jack would help.

For now, Bittle looked okay. He didn’t look scared. He was smiling at Kent, soft and sweet, and it made it easier to swallow. “Thanks, Bits.”

Bittle laughed. “Any time. And thanks for lunch. This was pretty great.”

“We should come here again with Jack,” Kent suggested, taking a step he hadn’t thought he’d be ready for. But the new rookie seemed to fit, better than Kent thought he would. He liked him, so much, and he was sure if he could get his jealousy managed, this could be the start of something nice. Maybe just friendship, maybe more. He wasn’t positive. But it felt right, and he wasn’t willing to let anything go.

*** 

Jack took a breath before he pushed his key into the lock. Things with Kent had been worse before, but they’d also been a lot better, and after the way practise had gone, Jack was preparing himself for a fight. There was something going on, he knew. More than just Bittle moving in, but he was having trouble putting his finger on it.

His first suspicion had been therapy, but Kent had always been very vocal when he wasn’t doing well with a therapist, even when it wasn’t true. So it was clearly something else. But Jack had a lot on his plate with the new season starting, and he hoped with how busy they were going to be, Kent would be able to even out a little more.

Stepping into the house, Jack shrugged off his coat and stared round. The place was dark, empty, the only sound the shuffling bags of take-away Jack had on his arm. Kent had been fairly quiet most of the day, and only sent off his request for Indian food before going silent again.

It wasn’t uncommon silence for a bad day, so Jack tried not to worry much. He set the food down, and began to trudge through the condo, stopping when he heard sploshing sounds coming from the bathroom. He smiled a little as he kicked off his shoes. If Kent was practising some self-care, it meant there was a good chance they’d have an easy night, and Jack was craving that.

Apart from having to get the team adjusted to three new rookies, he was also having to work with Bittle more than he expected. He’d gone over Bittle’s tape, over his past seasons, and the kid was good. But he had a pretty big mental block about the transition between NCAA and NHL. Jack was able to work it out pretty quickly—the kid was terrified of being hurt, and there was no way Jack could guarantee Bittle would make it out of any game unscathed.

But he’d taken pretty well to Jack’s tutelage, and by the end of their first practise, he was more confident on his skates. It gave Jack the boost he needed to feel like maybe this season would be okay. It had been a while since he’d won a cup, and he really wanted to feel the biting silver under his hands again.

And the truth was, he liked Bittle. He was put off by the guy’s enthusiasm at first, but he’d felt the same way with Alexei, and by the end of the first hour, Bittle had grown on him. Even if he did hum nonsensical pop-songs between drills.

Jack had a soft grin when he knocked on the bathroom door, then pushed his head in to see Kent with his head back in the water, floating just at the surface. He peered one eye open at Jack, and his mouth quirked up.

“Bout time.”

“Sorry,” Jack said, sinking down near the tub. He dipped his fingers in the water, finding it hotter than he preferred it, but exactly how Kent always bathed. “Traffic.”

“Yeah,” Kent said. His voice was a little subdued, soft but worn round the edges. He pushed his feet against the edge, sitting up against the bath pillow, and he lolled his head to the side to look at Jack. “How was the meeting?”

“Good. Everyone’s pretty happy with the rookies, and coach thinks Snowy’ll be good to start this week, so long as his ankle keeps it together.”

“Mm. Good,” Kent said. He shifted to the side, and let his finger tangle with Jack’s which were still drifting in the water. “I think we’re looking pretty good.”

Jack couldn’t help his smile as he leant over, brushing his lips to the tip of Kent’s nose. “Me too. Are you hungry? Food’s waiting.”

Kent stretched his back, then pushed himself up. Jack flinched at the spray of water, grumbling as he stood up, but he grabbed Kent’s dressing down and wrapped him up as soon as he was done towelling off, and pressed him to his chest.

Kent laughed a little, and gripped the front of Jack’s shirt. “Didja miss me?”

Jack snorted, but tilted his head down to capture Kent in a soft kiss. “I did. Come on, I’m starving.”

Jack all-but dragged Kent into the living room, pushing him toward the sofa as he grabbed the food, plates, and a couple of drinks. By the time he walked in, Kent already had some Netflix show going on in the background, and was sat on the floor in front of the coffee table.

Putting everything out, Jack joined him, and they ate in silence. Kent went between the show and his phone, and Jack simply enjoyed the quiet of the evening, the stark contrast to the chaos of practise and meetings more than welcome.

When they were full, Kent huffed and grabbed at Jack until they shifted to the sofa, and he laid between the V of Jack’s legs, his head pressed over Jack’s thumping heart. “So um. I made Bittle go to lunch with me.”

Jack stiffened. He’d seen Kent already start splitting on the guy, and although Kent had agreed to try, it was clear Kent didn’t like him. Still, he hadn’t gotten a panicked text from Bittle about anything Kent said, so… “How did that go?”

“Pretty good. I um.” Kent sighed and nuzzled his face against Jack’s sternum. “I was feeling pretty shitty about how I was with him at practise. My session this morning didn’t go so great.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jack offered.

“No,” Kent said quickly. “No it’s…whatever. I’m over it. But I was pretty fucking rude to him, and then I felt bad about it so we grabbed a bite to eat over at Waterfront and it was…it was good. I’m actually excited to move him in here, I think.”

Jack raised a brow, letting his fingers play with a few, drying strands of Kent’s hair. “Are you?”

Kent took a minute before he answered. “Yeah. I’m…feeling pretty jealous, even though I know it’s stupid. But like…I want to like him. He’s really sweet and…shit. I think it could be good with him here. I want to be his friend.” He stopped for a minute playing with the hem of Jack’s shirt. “Anyway, I told him about me.”

Jack’s eyes widened a little. “About…”

“Me having BPD and depression? Yeah.” He laughed a little. “He took it like…surprisingly fucking well. Like of course he quoted Fatal Attraction at me, but when I told him that was mostly just bullshit he like…listened. Like he wanted to learn, you know?”

Jack felt something unknot in his chest. He knew this wasn’t going to make everything better. Kent was already splitting on Bittle and with him here, it would be worse for a while, before it started to even out. But it was a start. “I heard he had a psych degree.”

“Yeah,” Kent said. “I mean, I know for a fact they don’t teach shit about it. I mean, nothing good at least, but he was pretty chill and asked a bunch of questions. He um. He told me he’s got PTSD from some shit when he was a kid. He didn’t say exactly what, but the implications seemed pretty bad.”

Jack frowned. He wasn’t sure if that was in Bittle’s file, and if it was, he hadn’t been made aware of it. “Georgia didn’t tell me that. Neither did the coaches.”

Kent swallowed. “Uh. Maybe don’t tell him I told you? I mean, I don’t think he’d be pissed about it, but it’s probably something he should tell you himself. Anyway, it was kind of nice because like…he kind of gets how my head can just be…fucked. How I can fuck up, and have trouble controlling my impulses.”

Jack brushed his fingers along the back of Kent’s neck, then over his jaw, gripping his chin to lift his head up. “I’m proud of you for telling him. For trusting him.”

“He deserved it. He’s been really fucking good, even if I haven’t been,” Kent said, his eyes a little wide, and a little sad.

Jack brushed his thumb over Kent’s bottom lip, then leant in and kissed him. “You’ve been trying your best, Kenny,” he murmured. “That’s all I can ask. I’m glad you told me.”

Kent sighed happily and burrowed himself back in Jack’s arms. “So anyway, we can start getting shit ready for him to move in. I’m going to try really hard, okay? To make it good for him. He’s probably suffered enough already.”

“Okay,” Jack said, and tightened his grip. “Just remember it’s us, okay? We’re in this together.”

“I know,” Kent said, but Jack could hear the relief in his voice.

He made a mental note to talk to Bittle before their game, and decided to throw in some extra sessions with the rookie if he needed it. He could balance this—his relationship with Kent, and the new guy. It wasn’t ideal, but Jack was the captain, and he didn’t plan on letting anyone slip through his fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for both the delay in posting AND the shortness of this chapter. It's a bit of a filler, and it does end on a cliffhanger, but I can assure you as far as Bitty is concerned, it follows canon events, so he's fine. This chapter is the lead-in to the "climactic" events in the fic. The next update won't be as long of a wait, I promise. And there will be plenty of fluff in the last two chapters. x
> 
> Huge huge thank you to RainbowLookingGlass for keeping me on track (and for writing down all the headcanons which motivate me). 
> 
> Also warnings for this chapter: Game-related injury.

Walking into the condo, Kent felt a little lighter than he had before. His therapy session had gone surprisingly well—the first since he’d started seeing her, and things at home were settled after Bittle had gotten everything moved in. They’d been treated to Beyonce every morning—to Kent’s joy and Jack’s confusion over all pop music. And Bittle was a little scattered, but he was tidy, and quiet, and never seemed to be in their way.

Jack and Bitty had been training most mornings, extra practise to help him get through his checking block, and although Kent had suffered a lot of mixed feelings about it, Jack had been extra attentive during the process which made it easier to shoulder. So he had a skip in his step, and a smile on his face when he walked in and put his things down by the door.

Kicking off his shoes, Kent wandered round. He knew Jack wasn’t home. He was doing a photo shoot for ESPN, along with the other divisions’ Captains and Alternates, so he wouldn’t be home til late. He was looking forward to a bath, a couple of bubble bars with his name on them were waiting for a day like today—one of the few during the month they didn’t have a practise or a skate. But he heard soft noise coming from the hallway, and he headed that way first.

Bitty’s door was cracked open, so Kent poked his head round and saw the rookie on his bed, his knees crooked up with what looked like a photo album spread out across his thighs. “Yo, Bits.”

Bitty looked up, alarmed, and quickly slammed it shut. “Oh. Um. Hey Parser. Hey I uh…I didn’t know you were home.” His cheeks were flushed red, and he clutched his hands tight over the book.

Kent smirked. “What’cha got there? Porn?” He’d meant it as a chirp, but the way Bitty’s eyes widened and he looked horrified sent guilt rushing through him. Why did he say that? Why make the kid feel fucking bad? “I’m…I meant…”

“No. It …it’s not. Um.” Bitty looked down.

“Fuck. Jesus. I’m sorry,” Kent blurted. He sighed at himself. Why was he like this. Why couldn’t he just…

“It’s an old photo album from home,” Bitty said quietly. “I uh. I don’t show people because um…it’s kinda…” He trailed off with a shrug. “It’s stupid.”

Kent ventured another step into the room. “What do you mean?”

Bitty shrugged, still holding the book in a white-knuckled grip. “I got chirped a lot by some of the guys on my old team when they found out. And I get it. It’s…girly and…”

“Yo, hey,” Kent said. “Can I sit?”

Bitty nodded, still looking miserable, and he shuffled back further to give Kent some room. Kent eased himself on the edge of the bed, near Bitty’s feet, and hung his hands loosely between his knees.

“I get hockey can be a fucking shit-show of heteronormative crap, and like a fuckload of homophobia. Even with You Can Play and out players, and even with guys like Zimms who won’t take shit, it can be an ugly scene. And I never played in college sports, but I’m betting it’s just as bad. If not worse.”

Bitty shrugged. “Not always. But it wasn’t always great, either.”

Kent nodded. “It’s a fuckin’ struggle. But you’re not going to find that here, okay? Dude look, check this out…” Kent reached down and tugged at his socks until they were off. He twisted to put his feet on the top of Bitty’s duvet. “I swear my feet are clean,” he said with a grin.

Bitty laughed, glancing down at Kent’s toes which were currently painted red with black spots like little ladybirds. Bitty reached a hand out, then seemed to realise what he was doing, and yanked it back. “That’s cute.”

Kent shrugged. “I like pedicures, and I like getting my toes done. And I guess some people might call that shit girly or whatever but…that doesn’t fly in this house. And if any of the guys give you shit for anything…”

Licking his lips, Bitty thumbed at the edge of the book and said, “I used to figure skate when I was younger. Um. I loved it a whole lot, but when things were bad…I quit.” Kent knew some of the story, a little of what Bits had told him before, but he wasn’t surprised to hear any of this, which made him feel even worse. “I miss it, so I look at my old photos sometimes. It was nice dressin’ up, throwing glitter on, putting streaks of colour in my hair. I just…I know what I looked like, and I’m already small and I still have a hard time with checking and I don’t want them to think that I don’t belong here.”

Kent shook his head. “I will fight anyone who makes you think that, Bits. I swear to god.”

Bitty’s face softened, then he said in a very small voice, “You wanna see ‘em?”

Kent’s eyes widened. “I mean…yeah I do, but you don’t have to show me if you’re not comfortable.”

Bitty rolled his eyes, shifting over and patting the space beside him. “Nah. I think you might actually like some.”

Kent scrambled up next to Bitty, stretching his legs out as Bitty did the same. He held his breath a little as Bits opened up the first page, and there he was. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen in the photo. He was wearing a tight jumpsuit, pale cream with sparkles all over. His face was painted pale, with heavy kohl round his eyes, and bright red lips. He had streaks of gold and silver in his hair, glinting in the harsh lights of the arena.

“I was skating to Abba,” Bitty said with a fond smile, his index finger tracing round the edge of the photo. “Dancing Queen.”

Kent laughed quietly. “I’d fucking love to have seen it, Bits.”

Bitty flushed. “Actually uh. My momma has about a hundred recordings of me skating. She’d probably die of joy if I let her show them to anyone.”

Kent lit up like a menorah. “I would give her half my damn salary.”

“Lord,” Bitty said fondly, elbowing him. “How about if she comes to visit I let her show you a few.” When Kent brightened like he’d just been told he won the cup, Bitty elbowed him again. “But no chirpin’ Mr Parson.”

Kent crossed his finger over his heart. “Swear.”

Bitty held out his pinky. “This is a binding agreement, pinky promises.”

Kent laughed, and hooked his own round Bitty’s and they shook. “Come on. Show me what else you got.”

Bitty grinned, wide and bright, and Kent felt a rushing in his chest. Shit. He liked him. He really, really liked him. He was perfect and kind, and Kent hated that he’d ever made Bitty feel less than. But he was willing to make up for it now. Sat next to him close, and smiling, and making him forget how it ever felt to not belong.

*** 

“Babe,” Kent said, his voice sleepy. He was curled up next to Jack in bed, minutes from sleep, but his mind was whirring. “Can we talk a minute?”

Jack rolled over, brushing his fingers into Kent’s hair. “Ouais. Is everything okay?”

Kent nodded. “I um.” He swallowed, and squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit. I have a crush on Bits.”

Jack was quiet so long, Kent carefully opened his eyes and saw Jack looking at him. He didn’t look upset, or happy. He looked contemplative and almost curious. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Is that something you want to act on?”

Kent breathed out. “I mean…I don’t know, exactly. I want…I’ve wanted, to maybe find someone to bring in. Because I think…I think having extra support wouldn’t be a bad idea. Lessen the burden on you.”

“You aren’t a burden,” Jack said quickly, almost automatically. He brushed his fingers down Kent’s cheek. “You aren’t.”

Kent sighed. “I mean, I know I’m not. Not specifically. But me…I mean what I have…BPD. It’s a lot. And you having support isn’t a bad thing. And I think…Bits might be good at that?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Jack said.

Kent shrugged, letting out a frustrated groan. “I don’t know. Babe I don’t…” He was feeling foggy and his head was hurting. Going off his meds had been harder than he thought, and sometimes during the day he was doing alright, but round the time he was meant to take his dose, things were harder. And right now he wanted to make sense, but he was having trouble keeping his thoughts straight. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m tired, sorry.”

Jack was frowning with concern, but he nodded. “It’s okay. I…think it’s an idea worth exploring. But I have reservations.”

“About me?” Kent asked.

Jack shook his head. “About him. About dating a teammate. If it doesn’t work out…”

“You mean if I fuck up and hurt him,” Kent said.

Jack’s jaw tightened just a little, and Kent didn’t miss the slight flash of annoyance in his face, which hurt. “I mean if it goes wrong, because relationships do that, no matter what. Sometimes they go right, and sometimes they go wrong. We need to consider what that might do to him, how that might make him feel if it doesn’t work out.”

Kent turned, burying his face in the pillow, his heart hurting. “I get it,” he said, voice muffled. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I was being selfish. I was…”

“I like him too, though,” Jack continued, not letting Kent spiral. Kent felt Jack put his fingers, a light pressure, at the back of his neck. “I’m not sure I’m where you are, yet. But I’d be open to it. As long as we are careful.”

Kent let out a slow breath, then turned his head back. His eyes were hot, and a little watery, but he had it together. “Let’s give it time? To see how we feel. But we should tell him at least. I mean, otherwise it would be kind of creepy.”

Jack nodded. “If you’re comfortable, I think it should be you. You’re better at it, and he trusts you.”

Kent smiled a little and shuffled closer until he was within the circle of Jack’s arms, held tight. “You’re better than you think you are, Zimms.”

Jack snorted. “If you say so.”

“I do. I say so, and I’m right because I love you and I would never lie about that. Your fashion choices, maybe,” and he paused when Jack chuckled. “But this…your heart. I care too much.”

Jack brushed a kiss along Kent’s temple. “I love you, Kenny.”

Kent closed his eyes, and felt himself get sleepy again. “I love you too, babe.”

*** 

Jack woke, not to his alarm, but to the sound of someone being sick in the bathroom. He sat up, startled, and reached over for Kent, but the side of the bed was cold and empty. Snapping fully awake, Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed and shuffled toward the closed door.

It wasn’t locked, so Jack let himself in. Kent was bent over the toilet, gripping the sides, and his entire body was seizing up with dry heaves. When he finished, he rolled to the side, and Jack quickly reached for a flannel from the linen cupboard, wetting it in the sink.

He reached over Kent, flushing the toilet before crouching down and swiping the cloth over his face. “Qu’est-ce qui ne vas pas?”

“I don’t know,” Kent groaned. He looked pale, his hands shaking, dark circles under his eyes. “Everything feels fucked up. I’m dizzy and…” He pushed Jack aside, heaving more into the toilet, though this time nothing came up. When he pushed back again, Jack swiped at his face once more. “I think I ate like…bad sushi or some shit.”

Jack pressed the inside of his wrist to Kent’s forehead. He was cool and clammy, which was an alright sign, he thought. “You want me to call the doctor?”

Kent shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck no. I just wanna curl up in bed and sleep for like a week.”

“How about a day. I’m telling the coach you’re taking a scratch.”

Kent’s eyes flew wide. “Babe,” he wheedled. “I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” Jack countered, ready to argue against anything that had Kent out of bed. “You’re no good to the team if you’re puking into a puck bucket every two minutes. Get back in bed. It’s still pre-season, you’re not missing much.”

Kent groaned, but allowed Jack to drag him up and ease him back into the bedroom. He collapsed against his pillow, burying his face in it. “This sucks.”

“I know,” Jack said softly. He leant over, pressing his lips to the back of Kent’s neck. “Sleep. I’m going for a run, and I’ll stop and get some Gatorade for you, and maybe some crackers.”

“Mm’kay.”

“Do you need me to get your meds? You probably shouldn’t take them like this but…”

“S’fine,” Kent said quickly. “I can miss a day, and it won’t matter if I’m barfing everything up.”

Jack frowned, but pushed himself up. “Please call me if you need anything.”

Kent mumbled something, but it was clear he was drifting, so Jack put his running clothes on and left the bedroom. He headed for the kitchen, and was startled to see Bittle in there already, chopping up fruit for what looked like a fruit salad.

“Jack,” the rookie said, his voice a little tense. “Is everything okay?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Kenny’s sick. He’s missing practise today.” He hesitated, thinking about everything Kent had said—about wanting to explore this, about wanting Jack to have support. And Jack had to admit the idea had appeal. It always had, but it was difficult to trust someone with their relationship. With Kent’s splitting, with his disorder, not everyone was cut out to be with them. Polyamory was tough enough, and with Jack’s anxiety and Kent’s BPD and depression, things could get ugly.

But there was something about Bittle that seemed…different. Kent gravitated to him more than he ever had with anyone, and Jack could sort of understand it. He was unfailingly kind and understanding, in ways Jack didn’t think most people were.

It was worth taking the risk, he thought.

“Do you want to run with me this morning?”

Bitty looked a little startled by the request, but he nodded. “Yeah, okay. Are we still heading to the rink early for uh…for checking practise?”

Jack frowned. “That was the plan unless you have something else to do?”

Bittle shook his head. “No just…” He shrugged. “Never mind, it’s not important.”

Jack hesitated. “Bittle I…if you need to talk, or if it’s not working or it’s getting to be too much…”

“No, no. Jack seriously I appreciate it more than you know. I just um.” He flushed again, and looked away. “I had a pretty bad nightmare last night. I’m worried about the game tonight. I don’t want to freeze up.”

Jack nodded. “Look. I’ve got your back, and if you really feel like you can’t do this, don’t. You’re still a rookie, and it’s only pre-season so the game shouldn’t be too intense for you. You won’t get first-line ice time, and…well. We’ve got your back, okay?”

Bittle relaxed a fraction. “I know. Um. And thanks. You don’t really have to do all this for me.”

Jack found himself smiling, and truly meaning the words when he said, “Yeah, I do. And I’m happy to.”

*** 

Jack looked up from his pb&j, and smiled at Bittle who was unpacking his own lunch. The morning practise had gone well, and press, and Bittle seemed far more relaxed than he had earlier. He opened his mouth to speak when he was jostled suddenly by a heavy bag, and then again by an elbow.

“Jesus, Tater,” Jack grumbled.

Tater laughed, dropping into his chair and immediately turning to throw his feet in Snowy’s lap. “Come to see new rookie. So domestic already. You ready for game, Itty Bitty?”

Bittle’s cheeks pinked. “Um.”

“He’s going to do fine,” Jack said.

“He’s replace Parse on your line tonight?” Tater asked with a wink.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Tater. Shut up. Can we not scare the new guys before they even get started?”

Tater’s face fell. “Is only chirp, Bitty. Promise. You’re not being too scared?”

Bittle shrugged. “I mean nervous, yeah. But no, I’m good. Really.” He bit into his sandwich, then looked away.

Jack sighed, wanting to say more, but Tater interrupted him. “How Kenny feeling?”

“Sick,” Jack replied softly. “He was awful this morning. If he’s not any better, I’m taking him in whether he likes it or not. I was gonna check on him earlier but Hall roped me into this fucking social media thing and…”

“I can do it,” Bittle piped up. Jack looked at him, surprised, and Bittle blushed, but kept his shoulders square. “I don’t mind popping by really quick. He didn’t answer my texts earlier and I was worried. It would make me feel better if I could go.”

Jack quickly dug into his pocket and slid the keys across to the rookie. “Take my car. Just don’t be late for warmups.”

“I won’t,” Bittle said, and began to wolf down his lunch. Jack didn’t know what to make of how quickly Bittle was trying to get out of there. Maybe it was a crush, or maybe it was something else. It was definitely an issue he’d come back to later, when he could focus on personal stuff instead of the game.

He didn’t say much as Bittle hurried out, but when he was gone, Tater let out a sigh. “How Kenny doing really? He is seem…a little better. Less angry. But not all the way.”

Jack scrubbed a hand down his face. “He won’t fucking talk to me, Tate. I mean he does, we communicate. But I don’t…” He bit his lip. “I think he hates his therapist, and I don’t know how much I have left in me if he’s trying to interfere with his treatment again. He hasn’t said, but…”

“Is too much? Having new rookie there? He can come stay with us. We tell you this.”

Jack shook his head. “Really I don’t think Bittle’s the problem. Kent’s actually been a little better since he’s been there. I think it’s giving him something else to focus on. I’m worried about the season but…” He shrugged. “We’ll get through it. We always do.”

“You love him,” Tater said.

Jack laughed. “For better or for worse, god help me. But yeah, I do.”

Tater smiled softly. “He is lucky guy. Both lucky guys.”

Jack rubbed at the back of his neck and nodded. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

*** 

Kent’s day had been a nightmare of feeling better and feeling worse. The first week coming off the meds hadn’t been so bad, but suddenly the withdrawals were hitting him like a freight train. His heart was pounding, head spinning, and he couldn’t keep shit down. He nearly caved and popped a pill but he remembered they were in the damn car and Jack had taken that to work. He texted his therapist, but she’d told him it was better to just tough it out than give in, and his head was so foggy, he couldn’t be sure if it was good advice or not.

He spent half of his afternoon in the bath, dealing with crying, and anger, and a lot of confusion. He felt alone, abandoned in his time of need. He felt like he was fucking dying, and no one bothered to check and see if he was alright. He didn’t understand. He needed Jack. Needed him. And where was he? Why was the game always so fucking more important.

It reached its peak when Kent got a text from Jack letting him know he wouldn’t be back for the evening. The coach had talked him into a social media thing, and Kent felt like putting his fist through the wall, if he’d had the strength to do it. Jack hated social media, so why did he say yes?

 _It’s probably because he doesn’t want to deal with your fucking drama_ , his brain said, and Kent felt a sob lodged in his throat.

He put on his dressing gown and went to look for Kit when the front door opened. Kent’s head snapped up, his heart beating wildly in his chest, and he felt a mixture of relief and disappointment when it was Bittle and not Jack walking through the door.

Kent gave up looking for the cat and flopped onto the sofa. His mood was hair-trigger. He could feel himself standing on the edge of splitting on Bittle and that was the last thing he wanted. It would do nobody any good. But he knew himself. He knew he wouldn’t be able to help it.

“Jack send you? You his errand boy now?” he heard himself say, and he winced inwardly, watching Bittle’s face for signs of anger.

Bitty just shook his head. “I wanted to come. I was worried about you. I heard you sick this morning.”

Kent clenched his jaw and looked away. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever, I’ll survive. I haven’t been able to eat today or whatever, but I don’t really give a shit.” 

“You should try something,” Bittle said carefully.

“Probably not,” Kent replied. “Not like you care.” He stopped. He realised what was happening. He knew what he was doing and fuck. He thought he was better than this. Bitty stared at him. 

“Okay. You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, but Kent…” 

“Forget it, just go fucking play your game!” Kent barked at him, then clamped his jaw shut. He had to stop. He had to, before he said something so fucking stupid, Bitty went running. He squeezed his eyes closed and reminded himself he wanted Bitty here. Bitty cared. Kent didn’t need to do this to get Bitty’s attention. Bitty was _here_ already. He was here because he cared. 

“I’m sorry,” Bitty whispered.

A silence settled over them, then he looked over at Bittle’s face and didn’t see anger, or pity. He didn’t see frustration or disgust. He just saw Bittle watching him, not quite sure what to do. Guilt washed over him, and he swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I um…remember that time we were talking at the café?”

Bittle nodded. “When we first met?”

“Yeah. And I was talking about attention shit? Uh. This is it? This is me kind of…fucking up.”

Bittle hesitated, then took a step. “Can I sit next to you?”

“If you want,” Kent said carefully. He wrapped a mental fist round his head, an iron grip, willing himself not to let go. He liked Bits. He wanted this to work. He didn’t want to come between him and Jack, he just wanted to be here, to exist with them, and he deserved that. He shifted over to make room, and felt the warmth of Bittle’s leg against his foot.

After a second, Bittle said, “You want a foot rub? My momma always did that when I was feeling bad. It never really helped anything, but it was nice to have the attention.”

“I just told you…”

“Attention seeking,” Bitty said, and nodded. “I know. But what I’ve been readin’ says not to ignore you. Kent, I’m not gonna just abandon you. And you’re feeling bad. So let me rub your feet.”

Kent bit his lip, but slowly extended one foot, then the other. He couldn’t help the quiet sigh when Bitty began to knead his arches, and the heel of his foot, then the toes. He shifted to get more comfortable, then his eyes drifted shut. “Sorry I’m such an asshole.”

“I forgive you,” Bitty said. Kent peered an eye open, and he saw a sincere grin on his face. A grin that said, I acknowledge when you’re being problematic and at the whims of your disorder, but I’m still here. His heart fluttered. “I can’t stay long. Got the game. But I was worried all afternoon.”

“Really sick,” Kent said. Confessing about the meds to Bitty was on the tip of his tongue. Holding on to this secret, this fear that Jack would blame him for interfering with treatment, for making it all up—because he still wasn’t sure whether or not he _was_ making it all up or not, weighed on him. It was too heavy to bear alone. But he wasn’t ready. “I’ll be alright though. I promise. I’ll be here when you two get home.”

Bitty hummed, then let Kent’s feet rest against his thigh for a bit. “I’m happy here, Kent,” he said eventually. “You and Jack have made what was probably the most terrifying decision I’ve ever made feel like…nothin’ at all. Like trying a new pie recipe. I don’t know how to thank you.”

That startled a grin out of Kent, who pushed himself up. He felt a wave of dizzy, but it was gone as fast as it started, and he put his hands out. “Come ‘ere Bits,” he said, wiggling his fingers. Bitty did, and Kent hugged him tight. “We got your back.”

“That’s what Jack said,” Bitty said with a laugh. “This mornin’. When I was afraid of the game.”

Kent snorted. “Yeah he would. But he’s right. I’ll be there next time. We’re not gonna let anyone touch you, I swear to god. If anything happens tonight, I’m gonna fuck them up beyond recognition.”

Bitty giggled. “I’m pretty sure that won’t be necessary, hun. But I appreciate the sentiment anyway. Now I gotta git, but you rest. Jack and I will be home soon to make sure you stay alright.”

Kent ruffled Bitty’s hair, then laid back as he watched him go. When the door shut, Kent was alone, but he felt far less lonely than he had in a really, really long time.

*** 

Kent was finally able to eat by the time the game came on. He had a bowl of soup on his lap, Kit at his side, and a drink by his feet on the coffee table. He’d missed the national anthem and opening skate, but it was two minutes in and Jack had the puck on his stick. He was heading right for the goal…and sank it, glove side!

“Fuck yeah, Zimms,” Kent said quietly. He loved him so fucking much.

The camera panned to the bench where he could see Bitty, looking nervous as hell, clutching his stick. His face was so pale it was almost green, and Kent wished so fucking hard he was there to give the guy at least a hug. Jesus. Why was he such a disaster.

First period ended with the Falcs ahead by two, and so far no one had made it into the sin-bin. Kent was done with the soup, and the drink, and had made himself a cup of tea when the second period started.

Jack’s line was out first, but by four minutes, Bitty was getting his first ice time. The Devils were playing a tough game, even for pre-season, which was making Kent nervous. The D-men were all over Tates and Poots, and Kent was pretty sure no one saw it until the last minute.

But he noticed. He noticed Anders’ face, the smug grin. Bittle had the puck, and he made the pass to Jack…

And then he was checked.

Kent shouted, his tea hitting the floor. He was on his feet, his hand at his mouth as Bittle was up, and crashed. Kent watched in horror as Bittle’s bucket flew off and his head bounced off the ice.

“Fucking fuck!” he shouted.

He was scrambling for his hoodie and keys, nausea and dizziness be damned. Just as he flew out the door, Bittle was escorted off the ice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a quick note to everyone to say how much RainbowLookingGlass and I appreciate all the feedback. It means everything we can bring a BPD character to life who isn't a villain, who gets their happy ending through hard work and therapy. Everyone's comments have been really great so far, and it's fantastic that we can help people understand BPD a little better since it's so often misrepresented in mainstream media and movies.
> 
> I think one really important thing we're hoping to convey with this fic is the complexity of BPD. And how harmful it is to people with it when others are armchair diagnosed with BPD because they exhibit certain symptoms. A lot of symptoms of BPD are also symptoms of other disorders, and BPD is one of the most complex disorders to diagnose. When people do bad things, then are labelled BPD, it makes it that much harder for people with actual BPD to be diagnosed and treated properly.
> 
> I also really appreciate everyone's concerns about the therapist. Unfortunately there are therapists like this who exist in the field. More than we really want to think about. Unfortunately some of these moments Kent is going through are coming from real-life experiences. It's terrible, it can be traumatising, but it does happen. Luckily for Kent, he will get past it, and he does get his happy ending. We love him too much not to give him that.
> 
> Again, I just wanted to say thanks for the feedback. This has been a super important fic to us both, and we're glad you are all enjoying it with us!

Kent hadn’t felt this scared in a long time. It was ridiculous, in hindsight. He’d been a hockey player for more years than he hadn’t been one. He’d seen more injuries than he could count. He’d seen men retired over and over.

The hit Bittle took wasn’t out of the ordinary. It was terrible, yes. They were following protocol, yes. But Kent’s fear was startling. He was pacing the corridor, his fingers glued to his phone waiting to hear back from Jack who was still on the ice, still trying to win the game. Bittle was back in his CT scan, and then…

Then they would see. Either the concussion was bad enough it would leave him in hospital for a few days, or it was mild enough he could recover in the comfort of their home away from screens and the ice. Kent bit his lip hard enough to hurt, then he let out a breath. When he blinked, he envisioned the doctor coming out saying something like, “We’re sorry, he didn’t make it,” and he started to shake all over again.”

“This isn’t helping. You’ll see him in a minute, and he’s going to be fine,” he told himself. “Your fear isn’t reality-based.” He opened up his screen and saw there were twelve minutes left in the third period. Falcs were up by two. They were going to take the game, and Jack could come home.

Kent looked up sharply when a nurse poked her head round the corner. “Mr Parson? He’s back in his room and you can go and see him if you like.”

“What were the CT results?” Kent all-but demanded.

“I’m not sure. The doctor will be in to read them shortly. He’s awake though, and talking.”

Kent let out a breath. That was a good sign. In fact, all of this was. The shaking in his fingers subsided and he poked his head into Bitty’s room. He looked tired and small in the bed, stripped of his hockey gear, crammed into a faded t-shirt and sweats. His hair was still fucked from his bucket, and there was a bruise forming on his temple, but his eyes were fairly clear, if not narrowed in pain.

“Kenny?” he said.

“Hey,” Kent breathed. He stepped in further and shuffled his feet. “I uh… I got here soon as I could. You were already in the scan. What did they say?”

Bitty pushed two fingers to the centre of his forehead, his eyes shutting. “Um. Concussion. Mild. I skated off the ice so coach wasn’t too worried but then I threw up so they sent me here. I feel kinda funky.”

Kent approached the bed, easing Bitty back against the threadbare pillow, and brushed his fingers through Bitty’s blonde locks. They were sticky with dried sweat, but fell soft after a few passes. “That’s normal. Jack and I have both had head injuries. They suck but you’ll be fine.”

Just saying it aloud, knowing the words were comforting Bitty, was a comfort to him. Kent felt even better when Bitty’s fingers tangled with his own, and he whispered, “Thanks, Kenny,” his voice a little sleepy.

The doctor wasn’t long, and the results were expected. “Mild concussion. He should get rest, ibuprofen for the pain, and he needs to take it easy. No screens, no books, as little stress as possible. Is he going home with you?”

Kent nodded, stroking the back of Bitty’s hand. “Yeah. Lives with us.”

“Good. If any of the symptoms persist or get worse, call the team doctor or bring him back, but I don’t anticipate any of that. He should be cleared in a week or two at the most.”

They brought a wheelchair for Bitty as Kent brought the car round, and it wasn’t long before they were back at the condo. He helped Bitty into his room, then when he was secured and lying down, Kent went into the kitchen, and pressed his forehead to the cool granite. It had all been so much. He was furious at himself for letting everything get so out of hand.

His fingers itched to pull out his phone, to call his therapist, but he was still too terrified of what she’d want him to do. The fact that he couldn’t trust himself was starting to weigh so heavily on his shoulders. He was feeling reckless, he was feeling angry and confused and he just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to confess everything to Jack, put it all in Jack’s hands and say, “You decide for me. Please.”

But he knew better than that. Because Jack might actually agree, if only to make Kent happy. Then Jack might resent him, and then Jack might get tired and the very last thing Kent could handle was Jack wanting to leave. He lived in constant fear Jack only stuck round because he felt responsible for Kent, and he didn’t want to give that fear any valid reason to exist.

“It’s fine,” he told himself aloud. “Bitty’s okay, I’m feeling better, and Jack will be home soon.”

The only good thing about the situation was that Bitty’s injury was able to keep Kent occupied until Jack got home. Bitty was dosing in and out, and Kent sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his twitter, and telling himself not to read fanfiction about himself and Zimms—then of course failing miserably and getting sucked into a fifty-thousand word coffee shop AU where Kent was a down on his luck barista.

It was nearly midnight when the door opened, and he heard Jack’s tired footsteps. Kent flew from the bed, bolting into the living room where Jack’s arms were open, waiting for him. He was drawn to the broad chest, and kissed softly on his temple.

“How is he?” Jack asked.

Kent swept a hand across his brow. “He’s like…fine but not fine, you know? Concussion shit which sucks, but it’s pretty mild. He should be better in a week or so.”

Jack sighed, dragging his fingers along the back of Kent’s neck. “Is he sleeping now?”

Kent nodded. “Dropped off a few hours ago. They said not to wake him, just let him rest.”

Jack let his fingers tangle through Kent’s, and they walked down the hall quietly, and into their bedroom. Jack began the methodical stripping of his work clothes, the suit jacket on a hanger, trousers and shirt sleeves in a pile to be taken to the cleaners. He kicked of his shoes, then shrugged on an old Aces t-shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts.

Kent watched from his perch at the edge of the bed, his crossed legs full of Kit who was purring quietly as he scratched under her chin. “You doing okay?” he asked.

Jack looked over, then shrugged. “A lot going on. I did not need my rookie getting his head bashed into the ice. I’m worried all that extra checking practise is going to go to waste. He’s…fragile.”

“Not as fragile as you think,” Kent started, feeling a little defensive over Bitty who didn’t deserve Jack’s hockey-induced ire.

Jack gave Kent an unimpressed stare. “You know that’s not what I meant. He’s got PTSD, Kenny. Little things can trigger him, and this was a big one. I don’t think he’s going to be eager to skate out there again.”

Kent knew Jack was right, and he scrubbed a hand down his face. “I fucked up.”

Jack stared at him. “Kent…”

“No,” he interrupted. “I did. I fucked up. I should have been out there with him. I could have prevented this.”

Jack shook his head. “He’s not even on your line, Kent. You wouldn’t have been on the ice together—it wouldn’t have mattered. Bittle is small, and he’ll be seen as a weak spot until he can learn his own rhythm and…”

“I should have done better. Jack, I fucked up and I need to…”

“Please don’t,” Jack said, his tone begging.

Normally that would have had Kent shutting up, but his head was a mess. From the withdrawals from the meds, from Bitty’s injury. From Kent wanting more than just friendship with Bitty, but terrified that if he asked for it, Jack might leave him. He felt himself getting furious, and fuck he didn’t want to, but right now his desire to yell and be yelled at was overwhelming.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snapped. “I know what the fuck I did, Jack, and the more you treat me like a child…” He clenched his jaw. “Whatever. It doesn’t fucking matter. I’m going to stay up all night to make sure he’s okay.”

“You need as much sleep as I do if you want to get better,” Jack said in a neutral tone.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Kent said. “Whatever, maybe I’ll pass out on the ice and coach will take me out and…”

“Kenny,” Jack said, and he reached past Kent for his pillow. “You’re struggling, and I understand that. And I love you very much. But right now you’re attention seeking and my anxiety can’t handle that. Tonight was pushing my limits. I can’t do this with you right now. I love you, and I’m not leaving, but I’m going to sleep on the couch and I need you to not follow me.”

Kent bit back a vicious retort, bit back his urge to pick something up and throw it at Jack as he watched his boyfriend leave the room, and shut the door with a firm click. Jack wasn’t wrong. He knew that. Kit jumped off his lap, and Kent curled his knees into his chest, pressing his forehead against them.

“Fuck,” he breathed. He had to do this, though. He had to control it. If he was going off his meds, if his therapy was going to work at all, he had to do this. He swallowed, then pushed himself up against the pillows and closed his eyes.

The silence in the room was oppressive, suffocating, and he lasted less than a minute. What he wanted to do was crawl into the living room, grab Jack by the sides of his face and beg him to tell Kent that he was still loved, that it was okay. But Jack had to be respected. Kent could not push him into a spiral. He closed his eyes and remembered Jack, and the pills, and the bathroom floor. He remembered what could happen if it all became too much for Jack and he was not willing to risk that.

With a sigh, he poked his head out of the room and heard muffled speaking. He crept down the hall, and saw a faint light out through the back door. Jack was outside on the phone. Either to his therapist or his parents—either one was good for Jack, though it made Kent feel like shit.

He turned to leave, but as he passed by Bitty’s door, he heard the rookie call after him, “Kent? You okay?”

Kent’s heart lurched, and he pushed himself inside. Bitty was awake, half sat up against the pillows, frown barely visible in the shadows of the dark room. “Hey. Sorry, did we wake you?”

“No,” Bitty said. “My head was aching and it’s keeping me up.”

“Do you want company?” Kent asked softly, taking another step inside.

“I would love some, if Jack doesn’t need you right now. I’m sure he had a rough night too.”

Kent let out a tiny, tense laugh as he pushed himself onto Bitty’s bed, and urged the rookie closer. “Uh, he’s kinda pissed at me right now. I was being a shithead about this evening so he’s sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Bitty breathed.

Kent huffed. “I don’t deserve that, Bits. I really don’t. Like…fuck, I know this isn’t entirely my fault, but I feel like everything’s just getting out of hand and I don’t know how to make it stop.” 

“Kent,” Bitty said, and shifted so he could put an arm round Kent. “Whatever happened, whatever is going on, you’re still a sweetheart. You’re still the first person who came running when I got hurt, and Jack might need some space but he knows you’re worth it. Matter of fact, that’s all he talks about.”

Kent blinked at him. “Me? Like…”

“Like how he feels lucky he has you. How you’ve been there for him most of your lives. Like he doesn’t think he’d be the player or person he is today without you.” 

Kent swallowed thickly. “Um.”

“And I’m inclined to agree. Signing on to the Falcs was damn near the scariest thing I’ve ever done and I was fixin’ to just quit. But then y’all came along—you took me under your wing and made me feel at home, and Jack worked at making me a better player. Y’all let me feel like this is a home here and…”

“It is,” Kent said, feeling a rush of affection in his chest so strong it was almost overwhelming. He swallowed thickly. “Bits, this is your home. Fuck I…” He closed his eyes. This was the worst fucking time to even be discussing this, but Jack told him he should. Jack told him he trusted Kent. Maybe that wasn’t true now after he’d fucked up but… “I like you, Bits.”

Bitty laughed, sounding sleepy, and tightened his arm round Kent. “I like you too.”

“No,” Kent said, and took a breath. “I mean…I mean I like you, like you. Jack and I both um.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Fuck, I don’t know why Jack thought it would be better if I brought this up. Shit.”

Bitty pushed himself up straighter, wincing, but his gaze was focused, and it was on Kent. “You…”

Kent flushed bright red, and was glad it was dark in the room. “Yeah. Uh. I mean I know this is kind of like…the shittiest time ever, but Jesus I have such a crush on you. I know I’m a colossal fuck up and a total hot mess, and who the fuck wants to date me but…”

“Well,” Bitty said very slowly, “me, for starters. Hell, I’ve had a crush on you and Jack since we met, maybe? Since y’all didn’t make me feel like a total freak here in the NHL bein’ as small as I am and…” Bitty stopped and took a breath.

Kent stared at him. “So you um…”

Bitty bit his lip, then shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe we should talk about this later? When I’m not concussed and you and Jack aren’t fighting. But I have a pretty big crush on the both of you and if you’re serious…”

Kent nodded, grabbing Bitty’s hand. “Can I…?”

Bitty shrugged, then nodded, and laughed when Kent pressed soft kisses across his knuckles. “Charmer.”

Kent felt that same rush of affection again. “Shit, I’m keeping you up. You seriously need sleep. And yeah we can talk about this later. But you really…god you really…”

Bitty grabbed Kent, fumbling for his hand, and managing to kiss the inside of his wrist before settling back down against the pillows. “I really really,” he said. “If you wanna get back to your bed, you’re welcome. But I wouldn’t hate it if you stayed.”

Kent considered it, but this was platonic, staying with Bitty. This was comfort for himself, and comfort Bitty, and he decided it was alright. He drew the smaller man closer, and buried his nose in Bitty’s hair, and closed his eyes.

Things didn’t feel great yet, but they were starting to feel better. And Bitty in his arms most definitely felt right.

*** 

Jack wiped sweat from his brow as he turned the corner and saw his building looming. He’d been running for nearly an hour, and the anxiety was finally calming to manageable levels. He’d been on with his therapist a lot during the first night, feeling bad even though she assured him that’s what he was there for. They considered upping his dosage, but for now he wanted to see if he could manage. A few days had gone by, Kent was feeling better, and had even gone on a date the night before with Bittle.

He’d been doing well so far, and the stress he was feeling about Bittle was only temporary. The rest was life as usual, and Jack knew he could handle that. He’d been doing so for years, and Kent had been right about one thing—having a little back-up when it came to their relationship wasn’t a bad thing. Kent was connecting with Bittle intensely—which was very much like Kent, but this time seemed different than any of the others. Mostly, Jack realised, because Bittle understood Kent. Bittle understood who Kent was, and what he went through, and wanted to be with him without thinking Kent would change or be cured.

That was the difference between Bittle and anyone else they’d attempted to date in the past.

And it was why Jack had a plan to ask Bittle out as soon as he got home.

His yellow trainers smacked against the pavement, and he slowed, then stopped as he reached his door. He felt decent—the weather was good, his run had been enough to clear his head, and bye week was coming up soon, which would give them all time to spend together.

Luckily this Sunday was the one day they didn’t have practise or a game. Which meant it was the perfect time to ask Bittle out. He was likely going to be cleared to get back on the ice soon, so Jack wanted to jump at the chance.

He headed inside, stopping when he heard soft singing coming from the kitchen. Jack popped his head round the corner and saw Bittle rolling out pie crust on the counter.

“Morning,” Jack said.

Bittle jumped, and pulled an earbud out of his left ear. “Lord, Jack Laurent! I just about jumped out of my skin.”

Jack grinned, unable to stop himself, especially when Bittle’s accent got thick and syrupy. “Sorry. Baking again?”

Bittle shrugged. “Well, gotta keep myself occupied since I can’t do TV yet, and I don’t see the doctor until Tuesday.”

Jack walked over, washing his hands at the sink, then laughing when he flicked drops of water at Bittle’s face. 

“You’re a menace. Did you just come in here to irritate and chirp me or…?”

Jack felt his cheeks redden, and he took a breath. “Actually I…was hoping you didn’t have plans on Sunday.”

Bittle blinked at him. “No…? Maybe laundry but…”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

He watched colour rise in Bittle’s cheeks, and a grin play at the edges of his mouth. “Oh I…well. Of course, Jack. I would love to. Just you and me or…?”

“I was thinking,” Jack said, then felt suddenly insecure. “Unless you’d rather have Kenny with us, of course.”

“No, I,” Bittle said quickly, then stopped. “I never dated two boys before, but Kent was sayin’ it’s important to make sure we all have relationships with each other.” He swallowed as Jack gave him a soft smile. “I’m tryin’ to get this right.”

“You are,” Jack assured him. His fingers twitched with the desire to touch him in some way, but he held it back. He and Bittle weren’t there yet, not the way Bittle and Kent were. Maybe soon, he thought, but he didn’t want to rush it. “And yes, that is important but…it’s more important that you’re comfortable. I know you’re closer with Kenny.”

Bittle shook his head. “That might be true, but I like you just as much,” he blurted, cheeks getting even pinker. He looked down at his shoes, and Jack wanted to kiss him so suddenly, it startled him. “I’d love for you to take me out.”

Jack’s grin threatened to split his face, and he took a step back. “I should shower. But after maybe we can euh…watch your cupcake show?”

Bittle laughed. “I’m not supposed to have TV.”

Jack winked at him as he gripped the door jamb. “You’ll be cleared soon. I don’t think one TV show is going to hurt.” He hurried out of the room then, to gather himself. He felt like a love-sick teenager, in a way, and it was strange, and new, but he certainly didn’t hate it.

*** 

Kent managed to stop the shaking in his hands by the time he got back to the condo. Part of it was the medication withdrawals. The nearly-full pill bottle, and prescription, which had not been refilled that month, were still sat in the car—not very well hidden, but he knew Jack wouldn’t bother checking the date. Therapy had gone as expected. Kent had told her the events of the week, then sat through a lecture about how he needed to sit and think about how much his own negativity affected his state of mind, and how he might find himself having a better time coping if he started replacing negative thoughts with positive ones.

“Okay but…that’s not exactly something I can just do,” Kent had told her, trying to breathe through his frustration. “I mean, that’s not exactly how it works. I know when I’m splitting on Jack. I can feel it happening, but I don’t have control. I go through my steps to remind myself that I’m splitting, and who he is to me. But it doesn’t always just stop. I can’t just…think of kittens and it all goes away.”

“Maybe you’re not trying hard enough. Maybe you just get a rush from being so negative. Have you ever thought of that?”

Kent wasn’t an idiot. He was intelligent and educated in his own goddamn disorder and he’d had some terrible therapists in his time, but none of them had ever implied that meditating on Kit’s cute face was going to make it all stop.

Only by the time he was home, he was wondering about it. He didn’t think she was right but…what if she was?

He had to talk to Jack. He had to at least tell Jack what she’d said and get a second opinion because he was tired of second guessing himself. His brain still felt so damn foggy from being off the meds, and he couldn’t focus. He was feeling on edge, and all he really wanted was to curl up with his head on Jack’s thigh and close his eyes and listen to some dumb documentary on Netflix about Arthurian maps or whatever.

When he came in, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Jack and Bitty having a cuddle session on the couch was not one of them. Irritation instantly shot up his spine, and his jaw clenched. Bitty was in his spot. Bitty was with his boyfriend. Bitty was laughing at something Jack said and it should have been…

 _Enough_ , he told himself. He breathed, but the irritation wasn’t fading. He affected a smile all the same when they noticed him.

“Hey sweetheart,” Bitty said, his eyes bright.

That softened Kent a little. “Didja miss me?” Kent asked. His urge to flee down the hall and lock himself in his room had faded a little.

He moved to lower himself into the armchair, but Jack shifted. “Here,” he commanded.

Kent couldn’t help the smile which spread across his face. He aborted the sitting movement, shifted, then collapsed into the space Jack made for him. Their sofa was just barely large enough to accommodate three hockey players, and although it was a bit squashed, Kent loved the feeling of having Jack wrapped round him.

Bitty reached over, taking Kent’s fingers. “Well I don’t know about this one, but I missed you.”

Kent snorted a laugh, and kissed the side of Jack’s neck. “He always misses me.”

Jack chuckled, but shrugged. “I guess. I could do without your smelly-ass socks you leave laying on my running shorts but…”

“I just don’t want you to miss my musk,” Kent said, and Bitty erupted into giggles, making Kent’s heart lighter. He wanted to talk about his therapist, about the stupid shit in the session that day but...he didn’t want to ruin the mood. This was too nice. This was exactly what he wanted when he first introduced the idea of Bitty to Jack. He closed his eyes when he felt Bitty’s fingers dragging along the curve of his wrist, and his body went lax.

“Everything go okay?” Jack murmured once Bitty’s show came back on.

Kent hummed, peering one eye open at Jack. “Oh. Yeah, fine. Just long. I was craving this.”

Jack’s fingers drifted up Kent’s shirt, drawing lines gently up his ribs, not quite light enough to be ticklish. “This is nice,” Jack mused.

Kent grinned and started to drift again.

He woke abruptly some time later when Jack’s phone began to chime, and he shifted over so Jack could get up to take the call. Bitty was still watching the show, and took Jack’s place, leaning his head against Kent’s chest. Kent’s fingers immediately drifted into Bitty’s hair.

“How’s the head? I thought you were still off TV.”

“Jack’s letting me cheat,” Bitty replied quietly, smiling against Kent.

Kent laughed. “Well if Captain Uptight Pants is letting you cheat, you must be getting better.”

Bitty hummed. “He um. He asked me to go on a date with him. On Sunday.”

Kent stilled. That was…well that was good. That meant Jack was getting invested, and Kent knew this would never work if Jack wasn’t invested. But he didn’t miss the tiny spring of jealousy flaring to life in his gut. He breathed through it. He wanted this, he reminded himself. So badly. “Did you say yes?”

Bitty laughed. “Course I did, sweetheart. I think it’s a good idea. And we have bye week coming up so maybe we can do some group dates, too. I know we live together and all…so this is probably more complicated than y’all usually date but…”

“It is,” Kent admitted, bringing his fingers to the shorn hair at the nape of Bitty’s neck. The jealousy had faded into a faint twinge, and his smile felt genuine. “But I kinda like it that way.”

Bitty turned his head, looking up at him. “Yeah?”

Kent laughed, poking the tip of Bitty’s small, upturned nose. “Yeah. Because all of us are kind of complicated. Just sorta fits, right?”

Bitty laughed once more, and buried his face in Kent’s chest. “Yeah, hon. That’s true. And it feels real nice.”

Kent held him closer. Not everything felt right. The jealousy was still there, the resentment. The fear that he wasn’t imagining how terrible his therapist was—and the fear that he was imagining it. Something was quelling in his gut, something big. But he clamped down on it as hard as he could, and tightened his arms round Bitty.

He didn’t want to lose this. It was too new, too fragile, and he wasn’t willing to risk happiness—for himself, or for Jack. He wanted to believe he was strong enough. He wanted to believe he deserved it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. Things have been a bit mad, but I'm still hoping to get this fic done in a timely manner. In fact there's only one proper chapter left, then an epilogue.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: non-graphic mentions of a car accident and car accident injuries.

“…so they’re running up and down the corridor and I’ve got the fire extinguisher on them. It was the first and only time we were ever kicked out of a hotel. Kenny and I got a four game suspension. I thought the coach and my dad were going to kill us both.”

Bitty covered his mouth with the tips of his fingers, his eyes shining bright and happy. Jack glanced at him for a second, before putting his eyes back on the road as they pulled up to the condo. “Y’all are somethin’ else. I’m guessing it’s not like that anymore.”

“Captain duties,” Jack said.

Bitty scoffed. “You were captain then!”

“I was sixteen,” Jack defended, then reached up with one hand to rub the back of his neck. “And…and I was dealing with an anxiety disorder in…well. In the wrong way. We were reckless.”

Bitty’s face fell a little. “Jack, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“No,” Jack said quickly. “Bittle no, it’s okay. I just…it’s something you should know. If we’re dating. I have a rough past, and so does Kenny. And it’s still not pretty all the time. But we manage.”

Bitty’s face softened, and he reached over, gently brushing his fingers over Jack’s nape, making him shiver and go warm all over at the same time. “You do manage. Better’n’ a lot of people do. I’m…I like you both a whole lot. I’m a little surprised you’d be interested in me.”

Jack’s eyes widened, and he pulled into their parking space. He didn’t turn off the car after putting into park, but he sat back and his mouth worked as he tried to form the right words. “Bittle I…Bits.” He cleared his throat. “Have I made you feel at all like…like I don’t want…that you’re not…”

“Jack,” Bitty said, a little breathless, “that isn’t it at all. I swear. Just…y’all are so gorgeous, you and Kent. And I’m just…”

Jack silenced him with a hand to his cheek, gentle as he could manage. His entire body was humming, and it had been so, so long since he’d felt like this about anyone besides Kent. A rushing in his limbs, pounding in his heart. He knew Kent felt this way. He’d seen it earlier that afternoon when Kent had been watching Bitty bake with wide eyes. He’d seen the flush on Kent’s cheeks as he’d backed Bitty up against the counter, grabbed him by the face, and kissed him.

Jack wondered for a moment if the tightness in his chest was jealousy. Then he realised it was just desire. To watch. To participate. Kent and Bitty were closer, but Jack was feeling it then, and he was feeling it now.

“I want,” Jack started.

“Yeah, yes,” Bitty said, and leant into the kiss the way he’d done for Kent.

It was soft, slow, a brush of tongue but it lacked the frantic nature Jack was first expecting. Instead it was as warm as the Georgia sun, and it spread from his mouth, down to his fingertips. When he pulled away, Bitty’s eyes were closed, and his cheeks were pink.

Jack felt his heart pounding, and he leant his forehead against Bitty’s. “That was nice,” he murmured.

Bitty laughed quietly. “Yeah. It was. I would be okay doin’ that again sometime.”

Jack chuckled along with him, then switched off the car and the pair of them got out. They walked to the door, fingers tangled loosely, and Jack tugged Bitty close for one more kiss just as they stepped inside. Jack pushed Bitty against the door, and it lingered, lips together in a slow, easy dance that didn’t ask either of them to go further than they were comfortable going.

Jack understood there needed to be boundaries. Bitty needed to feel safe in his home—with them, apart from the relationship. It was all new, and it was complicated, and Jack didn’t want anything disturbing that.

When they pulled away, Bitty was grinning, and Jack couldn’t help but mirror the soft smile.

“I should get to bed,” Bitty said.

Jack cupped Bitty’s cheek, stroking along his freckles with his thumb. “First day back on the ice. You need your rest.”

“Yes, Captain Zimmboni,” Bitty chirped.

Jack groaned, but smiled as Bitty walked off. He didn’t move until he heard Bitty’s door click shut, and then he made his way to the bedroom. The lights were all off, and the bed was devoid of the usual glow from Kent’s phone which meant his boyfriend was asleep.

Jack was momentarily disappointed. He wanted to share this with Kent—the fluttering in his chest, the swooping feeling of newness and affection. But more than that he was glad Kent was sleeping. It had been a rough few weeks, and Jack held out hope that with Bitty back on the ice, and Kent getting back on a regular schedule, things were going to even out.

He dressed down, climbed under the covers, and put his hand at Kent’s waist. His boyfriend didn’t stir.

Jack’s eyes closed, and he smiled as he drifted off.

When he woke the next morning, minutes before his alarm, the bed was empty, and Kent was already gone.

***

“You big bully,” Bitty cried as he skated round past Snowy. He was faster than Jack, but not fast enough. He felt the brush of a glove, then the warmth of a hand as he was hurtled toward the boards. Jack’s hand braced behind Bitty as they slammed against the side of the rink and laughter tumbled out of Bitty’s mouth. “No one told me this team was being captained by a giant bully!”

_Crack!_

The laughter died from Bitty’s lips as both he and Jack whipped their heads to the side. Kent was near the bench, his face pink with rage. A broken stick lay half on the ice, half in his glove-free hand. Kent didn’t look over, and Jack gripped Bitty’s shoulder as Bitty attempted to skate forward.

“Don’t.”

Bitty looked up at Jack with wide eyes as Kent hit the swinging door once, twice, a third time. The cracks echoed through the rink, and the team was silent as Kent stormed off the ice.

“What…”

“He’s…struggling,” Jack said quietly. “It’s happened before. He explained it to you?”

“The um. Attention seeking,” Bitty said, keeping his voice low. It seemed wrong to involve the team in such personal business, even if they’d known Kent longer.

Jack sighed, scrubbing his glove down his face. He knocked his bucket to the ice, but made no move to get it. “I’ll talk to him later. He’s splitting on me, and if I go in there now, he’s going to pick a fight and my anxiety is too high to handle it right before a game.”

Bitty worried his lip between his teeth, and glanced down at the no-contact symbol on his jersey. Just because they were breaking rules in practise didn’t mean they’d be breaking them for the game. Bitty would be on the bench. “I can talk to him in a bit,” he offered. “I’m not in the ice anyway.”

Jack hesitated, but nodded after a minute. “If he keeps this up he’s going to get scratched and fined, and that’s going to make it worse.”

Bitty swallowed thickly. “Is it because…” he waved his hand between himself and Jack. “Is this too much for him?”

“Maybe,” Jack admitted, and Bitty took a moment to be grateful Jack wasn’t going to lie to him to soften the blow. “It’s not that he doesn’t want it, or can’t handle it. I was afraid getting involved with you right now during this low point might not be the best idea.”

Bitty felt his insides twist. “I like y’all so much but if you need to end things…”

“I don’t want to,” Jack said softly, and there was a look on his face like if the team hadn’t all been there, Jack might have kissed him. It made Bitty’s heart thump. “I love Kenny and my relationship with him is a really important thing...”

“I understand,” Bitty said, in spite of the fear in his chest.

“But this isn’t just about us,” Jack said quickly. “Kenny and I don’t get…we’re not the ones who set the rules and you’re forced to live by them. I wouldn’t…things wouldn’t just end without your input, Bits. You’re part of this too.”

Bitty tried for a smile, but pushed away from Jack. “I’m gonna go change and see if I can find him.”

“Thanks,” Jack said. He skated off to work on a few more drills as Bitty exited the rink, slipped his runners over his blades, and headed back to the locker room.

He was only slightly surprised to find it empty. Kent’s stall was a mess, in disarray, the half broken stick thrown haphazardly against the bench. His clothes were gone, and his jersey was lying on the floor. Bitty sat down with a sigh, reached for his phone, and dialled.

It went straight to voicemail, and something in his gut told him he needed to be wary. Heading for the showers, Bitty rinsed off, dressed, and popped back to the ice where Jack and Tater were going over a few plays. When Jack saw him, Bitty leant on the side of the rink and waved him over.

“Everything okay?” Jack asked.

“Kent’s not here, and his phone is off,” Bitty confessed. “I feel like…maybe I should go home? In case he shows up there?”

Jack dragged a hand down his face, then nodded. “Look, Bittle. This can get…it can get bad. I’m hoping this is just him throwing a fit, but I can’t…I can’t guarantee this won’t end messy.”

Bitty nodded. “I understand. Will you be okay on your own if he shows up here?”

Jack shrugged. “I’ll be okay. I have an emergency Xanax if I need it. And if he doesn’t show, I can smooth things over with George.” When Bitty bit his lip, Jack put his hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

“I know. I’m just worried,” Bitty confessed. “But I’ll feel better if I know that the two of us are in the two places he might show up.”

With that, Bitty said bye to the team, then grabbed an Uber home.

Hours passed, and still no word from Kent. His phone was still off, and Jack said he hadn’t been back to the rink.

Feeling panicked, Bitty finally broke his privacy rule and started rummaging through their stuff. He found Kent’s therapist on a business card, and called the emergency line. He was half sure no one would pick up, but after four rings, a woman’s voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Ma’am. Um, my name is Eric Bittle and I’m the…I’m a teammate of Kent Parson.”

There was a pause. “Right, of course. Is everything okay?”

“Well ma’am, I’m not sure. Kent was having a little bit of trouble today. He was…he was splitting on Jack and…”

“I prefer not to use that term, splitting.”

Bitty blinked. “Right well um. Isn’t that…what it is?”

“I feel like Kent maybe isn’t working very hard on communing with his body. He’s allowing his negativity to control his thoughts instead of focusing on the positive. If he’s there, just tell him to get one of the healing crystals I sent home with him and meditate…”

“Wait,” Bitty said, trying to gather his thoughts. “Wait you…ma’am you do realise he’s got Borderline Personality Disorder, right?”

“I’m really not at liberty to discuss my patient’s diagnosis with a total stranger.”

Bitty’s jaw tightened, and every single moment Kent had appeared wary and unsure about his therapy came crashing down because he’d been right. Jack had talked about Kent’s fear about sabotaging his treatment but if this woman was trying to treat Kent’s BPD with _crystals_ and anti-negativity meditation…

“I should go. Sorry for the call,” Bitty said, then hung up.

He backed up, falling down hard on the edge of Kent’s bed, and stared at the business card in his hand. He needed to talk to Kent. He was worried now, about a hundred thousand other things, and if Kent wasn’t getting proper therapy, there was no telling where his mind was at.

**Jack, we need to talk the moment you have a free second. I thought I should give Kent’s therapist a call and…and lord, Jack, I don’t think she’s an actual therapist! I’m really worried. Please call me if you hear from him.**

Bitty felt helpless, and he had no idea what to do.

***

Hours later found Bitty in front of the TV watching the game. No word from Jack, but that was no surprise as the Captain often didn’t go near his phone on game nights. But there was no word from Kent, either, and he was announced as an undisclosed injury and would be scratched TBD.

Bitty felt bile rising in his throat. His gut was unsettled, and he was petrified.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the teams took the ice for the second period, when his phone began to vibrate. It was a local number, but not one he recognised, and he fumbled to pick it up.

“H-hello?”

“Mr Bittle?”

“Yeah?”

“Hi. My name is Mary Wright, and I’m a nurse at Providence General? I have a Mr Kent Parson here, and you’re listed as his second emergency contact.”

Bitty felt like he was floating out of his body, and he struggled to remain in control. “Yes ma’am. Is he…is everything alright? Is he…”

“Mr Parson was involved in a vehicle accident. He’s being discharged shortly after we get his scans back. He’s alright. Would you be able to provide a ride home?”

Bitty managed to get his voice back in time to say, “Yeah. Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.”

He didn’t waste any time other than to grab the keys to Jack’s truck, then to leave a hurried voicemail on Jack’s phone. “I found him. He was in an accident. I guess they tried to call you but…game night. I’m on my way to the hospital right now.”

Bitty did his best to drive safe, but if he was a little lead-footed well…he wasn’t going to cry about it.

He arrived at Providence General, finding parking near the front of the ER, and scrambled to the welcome desk. The woman at the front took his information, then sent him back.

“Mr Bittle?” asked a woman as Bitty was searching for Kent’s room number.

Bitty spun to see a tall woman with sharp black hair wearing scrubs covered in little hearts. “Yeah, hi.”

“Hello,” she said. “We spoke earlier. I have a few papers to have Kent sign before he can be released, and I thought I’d give you these.” She handed over a clear plastic bag with Kent’s things. “His medication is in there, but when we were doing his assessment he said he’s been off of them for some time now. They’re SSRI and he indicated he wasn’t being weaned off, and I’m not sure if you realise how dangerous that is…”

Bitty’s eyes went wide with shock, because he did know. “Lord I…I’ll take that up with him and his doctor, I swear.”

The nurse looked vaguely relieved, and pointed Bitty in the direction of Kent’s room. The door was slightly cracked, and the lights were on, and when Bitty pushed inside, he found Kent sulking on the bed, curled into himself.

All lecture, all fight went out of Bitty at the sight of Kent’s arm in a cast, and the black eye blooming on his left side. Kent tried for a smile, but his puffed bottom lip didn’t allow for the stretch, and he hissed in pain. “Guess I deserve that.”

“Oh honey,” Bitty said. He took a step forward, but when Kent flinched, he stopped. “I guess I’m not gonna ask how you are.”

Kent sighed, using his good hand to brush through his mussed hair. “I fucked up so bad. I’m…I fucked up.”

“I know,” Bitty said. “But right now, baby, I just wanna give you a hug. Please.”

Kent looked hesitant, but opened his arm to Bitty. The gesture was careful, ginger, Kent’s body banged up, but Bitty didn’t let go, and Kent didn’t push him away.

“We were so worried,” Bitty said, his voice muffled by the front of Kent’s shirt. “Lord, Kent. I was so…I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” Kent whispered back, clinging to the back of Bitty’s jacket. “I do not deserve forgiveness but…”

“Kent,” Bitty said, and he pulled back. “Sweetheart, you, me, and Jack need to have a long talk. I found out a few things today that…” He stopped, trying to make sure it didn’t sound like an accusation. “Tell me about your meds, Kent.”

Kent flushed, bright red against the blue-green bruising. “Um.”

“Did your therapist tell you to stop taking them?”

Kent glanced away. “Well she said uh…they might be inhibiting treatment and um. So. Yeah.”

Bitty reached up, carefully tracing the outline of Kent’s bruised cheekbone. “You know a therapist shouldn’t have any say over your medication, baby? That isn’t her place. She isn’t qualified to do that. And what you did was real dangerous.”

Kent bit his lip, then hissed in pain. “Shit. I uh…I mean I know but…”

“We can have the rest of this conversation later, but I need you to know right now that I believe you,” Bitty said, grabbing Kent’s unbroken hand. “I believe you that she was wrong, that she wasn’t giving you good treatment. And when Jack gets home tonight, we’re going to tell him everything together, okay?”

“Okay,” Kent said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But how did you…”

“I called her. And I’m real sorry for breaking your trust, but we couldn’t find you anywhere and I thought maybe she’d have some idea about where you’d gone. But the things she said…Lord Jesus in heaven help that woman if I ever get my hands on her,” Bitty said, then stopped himself. “But later. We’ll talk about it later. Right now I wanna get you home and safe and in comfy pyjamas. And full’a pie.”

Kent let out a tiny laugh, his eyes wet and stinging. “I…god Bits I…think I might love you?”

Bitty laughed and stood on his toes to lean in, brushing his lips against the unblemished side of Kent’s cheek. “I’m feelin’ real strong about you too, honey. But that’s a conversation for another day. Let’s get out of here and wait for Jack. And we’ll get it all taken care of. I promise.”

“Yeah?” Kent asked, and for the first time in a long time, Kent looked at Bitty with some measure of hope.

Bitty squeezed his fingers. “Yeah, sweetheart. Absolutely.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, final chapter. I loved writing this and there will definitely be more in this universe in the future. As always massive thanks to rainbowlookingglass who is the best at everything, and thank you to everyone who commented and enjoyed the story! There was nothing better than giving Kent his happy ending.

Kent was sore all over, aching from head to toe, but all he could focus on was the way Jack sat there, his fists clenching and unclenching. Kent could see the hard line of his jaw, teeth pressed together to keep him from what?

Shouting?

Crying?

Standing up and leaving?

That last one Kent would deserve. Hell, he’d deserved all three for what he’d done.

Bitty was a solid weight next to him, thigh pressing into thigh, warm and grounding. It was the only thing that kept Kent from bolting. The drugs for pain were keeping him docile enough. The urge to split—the urge to be defensive and start shouting at Jack and accusing him of letting Kent down by not pushing harder, by not investigating and finding out more on his own—was dulled by the opiates. His impulses and pain were a dull throb in the back of his mind.

Kent breathed out.

He barely remembered the crash, and not because of the drugs. Everything had crashed all at once. Things had been tense between him and Jack, and he knew that it was coming. Jack’s anxiety was ramping up, things with Bitty were heating up, and Kent was flipping so fast between wanting and jealousy that he could barely keep track anymore.

Slipping into Bitty’s bed and taking the comfort he wanted, that was one thing. But seeing Jack come home content and well-kissed from his date with Bitty was…a lot. Kent couldn’t control his fear, the paranoia that Jack was going to wake up one day and realise Kent was right—that Bitty was better in every conceivable way.

He swallowed and bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Jack asked. His tone lacked accusation and heat. He was just asking Kent to be accountable. Blanket apologies never went over well in this house.

Kent dared to look up, dared to glance over at Bitty who did nothing more than give him a supportive, encouraging quirk of the lips. Kent’s breath was shaky, but he took it and forced himself to admit it all aloud. “For keeping the therapist shit a secret…”

“Kenny,” Jack breathed, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s…we’ll get to that in a minute.”

Kent bit the inside of his cheek just hard enough to sting, and he nodded. “Um. I’m sorry for not even trying to communicate my issues. I’m sorry for…being reckless, for not thinking. For going off my meds and lying about it.”

Jack’s jaw was tense again, but he nodded. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t controlling my anxiety better. I would have noticed if I had been. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you couldn’t come to me.”

Kent felt a sob lodged in the back of his throat, but he swallowed past it and nodded. “Uh…I mean, yeah I kind of felt that way. But it was acting out. I was jealous, and instead of talking about it I just let it fester and uh…well…” He gestured at his arm.

“Can I…?” Bitty’s voice was quiet, hesitant, but Kent gave a firm, quick nod to let Bitty know he was more than welcome in this conversation. “I know I don’t know y’all as well as…I will. In the future. But I think…” Bitty stopped, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Kent, you’re a grown man, and you’re capable of remembering your steps. But that woman,” he spat, clearly refusing to use the word therapist, “it was her job to help you stay on track. But she wasn’t doin’ that. And you have to be accountable for your actions, but a lot of this would have been prevented if your therapist was…an actual therapist.”

“She is,” Kent said, feeling his hackles rise, feeling defensive. “She’s licensed and everything!”

“That might be the case, but Kent…that’s not…what she was doin’…and I only know the half of it but,” Bitty said, his words fumbling and failing.

Kent dragged his good hand down his face. “I was afraid. I…fuck. Back in Vegas when Jack and I first got together I was really bad, you know? I kept making up stupid-ass reasons why my therapists were bad, why I couldn’t go anymore, why I had to get off the meds. Jack and I fought so much, and he would get so angry at me…”

Jack bowed his head, his hands hanging limply between his parted thighs, and he shook his head. “I should have checked in more. I knew…I knew something was wrong. Fuck. Kenny, I knew but I just thought…” He glanced up, his eyes wide, and a little watery. “I should have done better.”

“It happens,” Kent said, his voice dismissive. The last thing he wanted right now was for Jack to take responsibility for what a fuck-up he was. The last thing he ever wanted to do was make Jack feel like he’d done something right when Kent knew the whole time…

“I think you two need a moment,” Bitty said, and started to rise.

Panic hit Kent—startling him, but he acted. He grabbed Bitty’s wrist and held tight. “Don’t…” he begged.

Bitty took a step toward Kent, a ginger hand on his cheek, avoiding most of the bruising. “Sweetheart, I’m not goin’ anywhere but my room. You two need a minute, okay? And if you want me later…you know where to find me.” He leant in, brushing warm lips across Kent’s forehead. For a moment Kent felt wanted, and safe, and he was scared if he let Bitty go, Bitty might have that moment of solitude and decide it was all just…too much.

He looked up at Bitty who was smiling sweetly, who was letting Kent cling to him without trying to tug himself away. Kent took a breath and told himself, _He’s not lying to you. He cares about you. He’ll be just down the hall._

His fingers uncurled, and his hand dropped. His breath stopped feeling stuttered in his chest when he realised Bitty wasn’t scrambling to get away. In fact, Bitty stepped closer, putting both hands at the sides of Kent’s face, and pushed their noses together. “Come get me when y’all are done, okay? It’s going to be alright, Kent. I promise.”

“Okay,” Kent whispered.

This time, when Bitty stepped away, it felt less like a loss and more like a moment.

Kent turned his head toward Jack. The eye contact felt heavier than weights he lifted during training, but he forced himself to do it, forced himself to see the actual look on Jack’s face instead of the look he was afraid was going to be there.

There was pity, which sent irritation up his spine. But there was worry, and understanding, and love. There was fear, and Kent felt a wash of guilt which eclipsed everything else, and he clutched his injured arm to his chest as he whispered, “I’m so fucking sorry you got stuck loving a disaster like me.”

The words were sharp with honesty, not just attention seeking. Not just asking Jack to hold him and tell him it was okay and it would get better and they would be fine.

Kent knew there wasn’t a hope of changing himself, but if he could change things for Jack…

“When is your next appointment?”

Kent blinked out of his thoughts. “Uh? I guess…Wednesday. My usual time. But Jack do I…shit are you making me _go_?”

Jack gave a stiff nod, and when Kent’s expression fell, he reached over and tangled Kent’s fingers with his own. “I’m going with you.”

Kent stared. “Um.”

“I want her to see what she’s responsible for.” Jack stood up from the chair, shifting onto the sofa into the space Bitty had occupied a few minutes before and he cradled half of Kent’s face in his hand. “I know you’ll take responsibility for your part in this. But Kenny…if you’d had proper therapy, with a person who knew what the fuck they were doing,” Jack paused to let some of the fury ease out of his voice, “they would have helped you through this. If you wanted off meds, or new meds, they would have sent you to the fucking doctor and we’d have had it done right, and none of this…”

“I might have. Still,” Kent reminded him, because therapy or not, meds or not, Kent could still spiral. He could self-harm and be impulsive and split on Jack and Bitty and rage out. But he didn’t continue because Jack knew all that. Jack knew all that and had for years and still loved Kent. And he was right. Maybe it would have happened.

But probably not.

Probably not, and then Kent was suddenly full of rage. His hands began to shake, and his broken arm ached fiercely, and tears pooled in his eyes. “I hate her. Jack I…I hate her. She…the shit she told me…”

“I know,” Jack said gruffly. “It’ll be a while before I can forgive myself for not seeing the signs. But I hope you can forgive me. I’ll do everything I can not to let you down again, I swear.”

Kent pushed his face into the front of Jack’s shirt, breathed in the scent of him, soaked in the feeling of here and now, and the belief that Jack wasn’t going anywhere. He squeezed his eyes shut and let himself be comforted.

Two pain pills later, and a warm hand on his back, Jack and Kent crawled into Bitty’s bed. Bitty was half asleep, but he shuffled the duvet back and allowed the two larger men to crawl in and hold him close. Kent pushed his face into Bitty’s arm, careful to keep his busted one elevated against his side.

Bitty smiled, brushing his fingers through Kent’s hair as Jack settled in and pressed a kiss to Bitty’s other shoulder. “Y’all okay?”

“Yeah,” Kent murmured sleepily.

“Good. We’ll deal with whatever comes next together. Or…however y’all want me.”

“Just like this,” Kent said, and lifted his head a fraction to see that same determination mirrored in Jack’s eyes. “With us.”

Bitty smiled, and kissed Kent on the tip of the nose.

*** 

Jack fidgeted in his chair, staring at the woman he’d only met once before. He should have known something was up when she rejected Jack’s initial offer to have a session every now and again with Kent. But he thought maybe she had more unique methods that might help Kent.

He hadn’t known what she would do, the path she’d send Kent on.

The damage she might have caused if Bitty hadn’t…

Jack shook the thought from his head, and relaxed his fingers. He pushed his thigh up against Kent’s to remind him that he was here, that Kent wouldn’t have to suffer her much longer.

“Kent,” she said after a moment. It was clear she sensed something was going on.

“I was in a car accident,” Kent said. “I…split on Jack, and my jealousy got out of hand. I gave into my impulses and I jumped behind the wheel and I was going ninety down a neighbourhood street. I took a turn too fast. I knew I was doing it, I knew I was going to crash. And I did. I lost control and hit a car.” He licked his lips and stared at her impassive face. “At the hospitals, the doctor found out I went off my meds cold turkey.”

Jack watched her swallow thickly.

“Under the advisement of a therapist,” Kent spat.

She blinked. “Now, I never said…”

“Bullshit,” Kent spat. Jack put his hand on Kent’s knee, trying to keep the situation escalating past what Kent was capable of handling right then. “You told me to stop taking them. You told me it was _safe_. You said…you said I’d feel better and that…it was safe.”

“If you knew you were supposed to be under medical advisement with the medication, you should have consulted your doctor,” she said mildly.

At that, Jack was unable to hold back his snort. “That’s one way to cover your ass.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t know what…”

“I have this friend,” Jack went on. “He’s a lawyer.” He watched her pale slightly.

“I don’t want to be hasty,” she said quietly, “but if you’re suggesting what I think you are, it’s best that you leave.”

Kent rose, pushing Jack to the side a little, and snatched something from the table. “Anti-negativity spray,” he said.

Jack stared. “What?”

“She would…” Kent stopped, then started laughing as he let it tumble from his fingers, straight onto her lap. “She would spray me with it. To get rid of my negativity.”

Jack stared at her, willing her, _daring_ her to say a word. Her mouth set in a firm line, and he turned back to Kent. “I’m sorry.”

“We can go now, right?” Kent said.

Jack nodded, put his arm at Kent’s waist, but turned back to her. “You’ll be hearing from someone soon.”

The door clicked shut, and they didn’t look at anyone until they climbed into Jack’s car, and buckled in.

“Are uh…are we seriously going to sue her?”

Jack snorted. “We have grounds, probably. That was…gross misconduct I’m sure. But it’s up to you. I’m not putting you through anything else that might hurt.”

Kent softened against the back of the seat, letting his head loll to the side to look at Jack. Jack stared back at him, his heart swelling with just how fucking much he loved Kent. There was Bitty now, too, and feelings were shifting, rearranging with his new routine, and it was a lot, but it was starting to feel okay again.

“Will you help me make calls today?” Kent asked. “For a new therapist?”

“Yes,” Jack replied without hesitation.

“Can we get smoothies, too?”

Jack laughed. “Text Bits and ask him what he wants.”

Kent grinned, and did.

*** 

Kent laid his cheek against Bitty’s bare hip. His arm was sore, but the fracture was healing well, and it was out of the sling. He flexed his fingers, letting himself be warmed by the feeling of satisfaction. Jack was still at the afternoon skate, and there was a game that evening which Bitty had to get back to the arena for, but he’d given up his afternoon nap to fuck Kent into the mattress and Kent was absolutely okay with that.

“You gonna ride with me, or get there later?”

“I’ll be on the bench tonight with you guys. You could use my moral support,” Kent said with a grin.

Bitty rolled his eyes, but shoved his fingers through Kent’s hair, weaving them in and out of the cowlicked strands. “You know I love you?”

Kent turned fully onto his side, kissing Bitty’s warm skin. “Mm. I mean, I guessed so, but it’s nice to hear.”

“I’ll tell you as much as you need it, sweetpea.” Bitty let his fingers trail down Kent’s cheek, round his slightly puffed lips, down the line of his neck. “You and Jack, you both mean a lot to me.” He took a breath. “How you feelin’?”

Kent shrugged. “Okay. Meds are doing alright, got past that gross first month crap. And uh…new therapist is…” He trailed off and sighed. It wasn’t great, but he wasn’t anything like his old one. Jack had made sure, of course, and was a little over protective. But new therapists took time. Kent sometimes bonded very easily, but sometimes it took him weeks, if not months, to trust someone else.

And after everything he’d been through…

It had been a rough six weeks since the accident, but he was getting there. They all were.

He pushed up onto his hands, ginger with his arm which was still freshly healed, and he draped himself over Bitty. Bitty let out a squeak and shoved at Kent playfully, but came into the kiss easily, mouth open, tongue warm and soft.

“I’m lucky to have you,” Kent murmured.

Bitty flushed from the praise, tangling his fingers behind Kent’s neck, holding him close and possessive. “You’re not the only one, you know. You got yourself two boyfriends who feel just as lucky every day.”

Kent buried his nose in the side of Bitty’s neck, breathing him in. “Tell me again.”

Bitty giggled, but took Kent by the chin, lifting his face to speak directly to him. “I love you. And I feel like the luckiest man on earth to have you in my life. You and Jack. You took a terrified rookie and made him feel strong and brave and wanted. And for that, I’ll love you forever, Kent Parson.”

Kent felt his eyes go hot, but before he let himself lose control, he kissed Bitty again. 

Again. 

Again.

“It’s going to be okay, isn’t it Bits?” But it wasn’t really a question. More like a realisation. It wouldn’t last, Kent knew that. He’d never stop being afraid that the door would open then shut, with Jack and Bitty on the other side, and Kent alone forever.

But when they looked at him like this, when they held him like this, it was easy to believe in these moments that forever meant something.

Bitty kissed the tip of his nose, then pushed him off. “Come on, baby. Come help us win some hockey.”

Kent scrambled off the bed and followed Bitty to the shower. Determined to make him feel like his choice to be with Kent and Jack was a victory. From Bitty’s smile when Kent pulled the shower door back, Kent could tell he was already halfway there.


End file.
